PSI Snippets
by Kiba Sniper
Summary: A collection of ficlets based on generated first lines or short pieces by themselves. What should have been a procedural liftoff becomes a chaotic runaround Chloe's neighborhood.
1. Can't Stay Here - Caligosto

First line prompts supplied by writingexercises.

Can't Stay Here

_After five years, he just happened to be walking down their street? _It was more of a coincidence that he returned. One bus ride after the other blurred buildings, streets, and towns together, and before he knew it, he had marched towards his childhood home.

The fence was the same cyclical structure. Uneven slats of wood threatened to fall off after years of neglect. Bits of rusted metal on nails poking out would have given him a nasty case of tetanus if he so much as nicked them.

On the side of the home, the bushes his mother loved to trim had risen up to the window. White wildflowers had bloomed on the thorny stems. The rest of the yard was filled with brown grass and holes deep enough to hide a dog bone or a particularly small brain. Only stray dandelions shivering in the wind gave the home any semblance of normalcy.

He lunged over the fence with a long step and gazed at the remnants. The home reminded him of the tomatoes Gloria tried to raise in her garden. Rotten, discolored, and in serious need of care, it made a snicker rise up from within him. He assumed they couldn't keep the home while he was wasting away in Thorney Towers, and he strode up the creaking steps, the wood threatening to collapse under his weight.

Peering through the window, he frowned. It was too dark for him to make out anything, but he remembered what had been there. The white and blue checkerboard tiles spanning from wall to wall surfaced in his mind's eye when he shifted his gaze to the ground. There had been a table in the center, one he had hidden underneath many times while his mother threw down the bended spoons, each one clattering louder than the last. He reasoned that there had already been rust on the oven and cabinets and not the other way around when he squinted at what was left inside. Scraps of metal coated in chipping green paint, broken tiles, and dust particles still fluttering in the stale air, those were the remains of the kitchen.

Caligosto leaned away and returned to the entrance. The doorknob seemed lopsided, and when he grabbed it, it popped off, revealing a rusted interior and loose screws. He twisted it between his fingers, a hum pressing against his closed lips as if he was examining a curious brain, but it slipped from his grasp and rolled off the ledge. His gaze never left it as it fell into one of the many holes, sinking as if it were trapped in quicksand, the dirt and flimsy pieces of grass quickly claiming it before he could do anything.

He chuckled. It was such a stupid sight. His old home left to decay under the sun, it was funny in the twisted way he liked. All of the others had places to return to while his was left in disrepair. Even Sheegor found a new home after hers had been burned and bombed to hell and back.

There was nothing left for Caligosto, which was exactly what he expected. What reason would they have to keep a house filled with nothing but horrors and memories of a child they wanted to forget?

Pivoting on his heels, he tiptoed down the steps. If there was any reason to stay and search, he couldn't think of one. With no one waiting for him, Caligosto ambled over the fence and left it behind. He fixed his sweater and went off to the nearest bus stop, rummaging around in his pocket for the rest of his quarters.

As he waited, sitting on the farthest edge of the bench while a mother fixed her child's pigtails next to him, he flinched as they waved to him from across the street.

_Bye, son!_

_Buh-bye! We love you!_


	2. Angels Don't Wear Pantsuits Milla Hollis

Angels Don't Wear Pantsuits

_She clung on to the piece of driftwood, praying for daylight._ Milla gasped as her beaten body was ravaged by the current. She hacked up dirty water and saliva back into the dark depths. Willing herself to stay awake, she felt her bright red mascara slipping down her cheeks. Grunting, she ripped her free arm from the water, grateful to find her suitcase still clasped shut only for the wind's pull to drag her limb back, testing her white-knuckled grip.

She twisted her neck and tried to gather her surroundings, but the waves knocked her around like a broken ragdoll. The wind shoved her from behind, almost making her grasp on the driftwood slip. Milla grit her teeth and squinted through the darkness only for another wave to slam into her face. A yelp escaped her, quickly silenced by a mouthful of water and plastic, and she spat it all out, her heaving breaths pounding in her ears, her lungs working overtime.

She couldn't go down like this, not in some nameless river in Europe. She had been on her first solo mission was tasked with retrieving the stolen brain of the Swedish ambassador to Denmark. It had been going smoothly. Sneaking into the function with her best dress, doing reconnaissance of the enemy during their dinner party, locating the brain in the booby-trapped infested cellar, and swiping it back and putting the jar in her suitcase, she hadn't made a single error.

But she had become careless. She hadn't thought about hidden security cameras, ones so small they could fit between the crevices of bricks and tiles. It sounded improbable when she had realized it, but she knew she should have suspected something strange. The enemy's guards had pounced on her, forcing her to flee into the woods surrounding the mansion with the suitcase clutched to her chest. She had tried teleporting back to the Motherlobe like Ford had taught her, but when smoke filled her nostrils, she found herself staring at burning ruins of the orphanage.

She hadn't seen the guards setting fire to the trees around her. All she had understood were the faces of her dear children, screaming, melting, their skin bubbling away to reveal white bones. She had screamed until she was hoarse, and her limbs moved without a rational thought guiding them, her memory of what had happened between the fire and the river gone when she came to in the current.

Milla's enemies were no longer in sight. She heard only her deep breathing and the panicked whisperings she picked up on from the ambassador's brain. She felt her dress cling to her skin, the velvet material weighing her down. The straps of her high heels had come undone when she kicked against the waves, leaving her with only one. The sharp branch pricked her palms when she tried guiding it towards what she hoped was the edge of the river. Another wave crushed her, forcing her body to flip over, but she never lost her grip around the driftwood or her suitcase.

Coming up for air, she gasped and stared at the sky. Not a single star could be found, and the moon shone too brightly for her weary eyes. The current flung her forward, and she felt weightless, her tether to the driftwood loosening. She spotted the distorted reflection of the moon in the water before it was ripped apart by the waves, a bleak reality which seemed to be coming for her.

_Is this really it? _Milla thought, the waves devouring her, dragging her down more and more. Her grip on the driftwood grew weaker, her pinky and ring fingers pushed back. The ambassador begged to know what was happening. She felt a school of fish brushing against her legs, some of them nibbling on her ankles. _Am I really going to end up as...as fish food?_

_That's a wrong assessment of your situation, Agent Vodello._

Her eyes shot open as something snatched her fingers, turning the tips bright red. She felt her body rise, the air assaulting her more than the waves. As she rose, her limp, damp curls blinded her. All she could make out was a...white pantsuit in the sky?

"Do you have the ambassador's brain?" asked her savior, tugging the suitcase away from her. They flicked it open, checked its contents, and closed it. "Mission accomplished. Excellent work for your first solo mission."

"Who-who are-?" She coughed, her chest heaving. Levitation should have come naturally, but she couldn't think of a single happy thought. She surrendered herself to the care of the stranger as they telekinetically held her up by the scruff of her neck.

They brushed Milla's hair out of her eyes. Clicking their tongue against the roof of their mouth, they said, "How surprising that you don't recognize the Second Head of the Psychonauts. Are you that addled?"

Heat flushed her cheeks, and she snapped to attention. The Lesser Head of the Psychonauts? Here? Saving her? In the middle of nowhere?

Hollis glanced at her up and down. "It seems you've had trouble on your own."

"I, er-" She searched for the right word and shifted her gaze at the thrashing water yards below them. "-may have...miscalculated. You see-"

"What matters is the outcome," Hollis interjected, levitating Milla's suitcase back to her, "and you succeeded. Just don't make the same mistake."

The corners of her lips quirked upwards but quickly fell. Exhaustion seized her, and she felt her eyes closing again. Her limbs felt heavy and lethargic, and her head drooped to the side, a groan escaping her.

"Rest, Agent Vodello," Hollis said, setting two fingers to her temple. "I'll take us to HQ."

"How did...you find me?" Milla crooned, her consciousness slipping again.

Hollis cupped Milla's chin, a smirk playing on her lips as she wiped away the splotches of mascara and water. "Call me your one-time guardian angel, and we'll leave it at that."


	3. Déjà Vu - Sheegor and Sasha

Déjà Vu

_She took a deep breath and said to her boss, _"So, this is your, um, Brain Tumbler."

Sasha took a quiet drag from his cigarette as his new assistant lumbered around his Brain Tumbler. Sighing out the smoke, he said, "Yes, it is."

Sheegor pursed her lips. She hobbled around it again, taking in its rather large form. The metallic purple exterior had a fine layer of dust coating it. Green, leathery pumps were connected to it, an addition which made her scratch her head. She knew modern Brain Tumblers didn't need extra pumps. It was also much longer than she expected, its' structure extending into the ceiling and making an occasional shudder as if it would collapse to the floor in a heap of nuts and bolts.

"If you don't mind me asking, what year was this made?" Sheegor wondered, placing her mittened hand on the cool metal.

Shifting over to the control panel, he pressed a few buttons and replied, "1998."

"O-oh, is that so?" she crooned, wariness seeping into her voice. She glanced over her shoulder. "I, um, well, doesn't this camp-?"

"If you're asking why I have such a cheap Brain Tumbler-" He looked back at her, the iridescent lights above them reflecting off the rims of his glasses, "-I bought it because HQ insisted the camp didn't need one." He scoffed and shook his head. "Insisting the camp didn't need one, the Heads was certainly wrong on that. How was I supposed to do my research if I didn't have a Brain Tumbler?"

She fidgeted in place and wrung her hands together. "But why wouldn't the Psychonauts give you one?"

He took another long, slow drag. Holding it, he narrowed his eyes at the Brain Tumbler. He breathed out the smoke, and it swirled around his head, almost forming a light gray halo.

"The budget they give to the camps is rather small. We're given basic facilities while the rest is up to the counselors to provide." He flicked a few switches behind him, the Brain Tumbler whirring to life and making Sheegor step back. Fiddling with his cigarette as if he was twirling a pen, he said, "The Lesser Head is very irritating when it comes to funding. If she had her way at the budget meeting last month, then she wouldn't have spent a dime on the camps."

Sheegor fiddled with the fabric of her shapeless dress. She hadn't expected the Psychonauts to be so stingy with their money. She thought they would have given the counselors anything they needed in order to help the cadets control their powers and learn new techniques.

But as Sasha rubbed his temples, he reminded her of what happened to Thorney Towers. There hadn't been any attempt to salvage the asylum or help the inmates by the government. As soon as it was reported that her father killed himself, they gave the evacuation order and flooded Shaky Claim, paying the inmates to leave with their illnesses ignored. Instead of providing any real assistance, they drowned the problem, her father's legacy now resting at the bottom of Lake Oblongata.

A chill raced down her hunched spine. She felt goosebumps prick her arms as cruel conclusions settled in her mind. The government hadn't helped the inmates, and it seemed like the Psychonauts focused on other priorities. If they weren't willing to help the children, would the past repeat itself?

"But what HQ refuses to give us, we give to ourselves," Sasha said, dragging Sheegor out of her contemplation. He crossed over to her and patted the Brain Tumbler, leaving a handprint in the dust when he drew back. "While this one is the cheaper model, it helped Raz realize the truth about Oleander's scheme." He furrowed his brow at the dust gathering between his fingers and wiped his glove on his jacket. Levitating the cigarette by his head, he grinned down at her. "Ford said that we endeavor to build strong minds here. Even if we aren't up to standard with the latest Brain Tumbler because of the budget, I intend to continue working with the cadets in my own way. Whether they choose to take me up on it, though, that's all up to them."

Sheegor straightened as best as she could, her eyes widening. "D-do you really-do you really think so?"

"Yes, of course." He levitated the cigarette over to a glass ashtray in a messy corner of his lab. "By the way, I'll need to know what I can do to make you comfortable as my assistant. Tell me any accomodations you need, and I'll provide them."

She returned his smile, any traces of worry gone from her expression. She wondered if he could sense her joy as she ambled closer to him. Bobbing her head up and down, she exclaimed, "Oh, thank you, Mr. Nein! I really, really appreciate all of this!"

"There's no need to be formal. You can call me Sasha," he replied, patting her shoulder, and as ideas swirled in her head to improve Whispering Rock, Sheegor felt like she could finally put the past behind her.


	4. Card Clash - Raz and Frazie

Card Clash

_As he flipped through the letters, a small, handwritten envelope caught his attention, and his heart began to thump. _It was addressed to him in cursive letters, the blue ink having smeared on his last name. Raz flipped the letter over and grinned at the tiny rose sticker keeping the envelope from opening. He carefully pinched the sticker and pulled it off, the flap flipping open.

He couldn't stop himself from smiling as he tugged the card out. It smelled like lavenders, one of Lili's favorite flowers to chat with during her breaks. The corners of the card were even decorated in drawn lavenders, a pleasant compliment to the pale pink cover.

"What'd we get in the mail?"

Raz immediately stuffed the card into his jacket pocket, his older sister's shadow crossing over him when she appeared in the doorway behind him. He quickly offered her the other envelopes, replying, "Mostly junk. Bills and stuff like that."

Groaning as she shuffled through them, she mumbled, "That sucks."

Shifting on the brick steps, Raz nodded. He was comfortable knowing his family had finally been settled in a permanent home. Using the money they made with their circus and the paychecks Raz received from the Psychonauts (along with a rather generous down payment from Truman Zanotto, one Augustus had to be coerced into accepting by his wife), the Aquatos were living in the outskirts of Austria in a nice home with a long pasture for their circus animals. While they still traveled to perform and support themselves, Raz was happy knowing they had a place to stay while he worked with the Psychonauts instead of constantly fending for themselves in the wilderness or fleeing from their enemies.

Frazie hung her head and clicked her tongue. "Laaame. Completely lame."

"Yep, it's all lame," he replied, nodding. He leaned back and tapped his foot. Narrowing his eyes on her shadow, he watched it sway from side to side.

Flipping through the letters again gave her the same result. Much to displeasure, she found bills, credit card offers, and campaign flyers. She had been hoping the shampoo samples she ordered from a local salon a few towns over would have arrived, but alas, she was glaring at an electricity bill.

"Aw, dammit," she grumbled and slapped the letters against her palm. "I'll give these to Dad. You can read your girlfriend's letter now."

Raz flinched as she tiptoed towards the front door, clawing at his card and blurting, "How'd you know I-?"

His eyes bulged in his skull. In that moment, Raz knew he made a grave mistake, one he made too many times before. Even with his training as a Psychonaut, he still fell for her trap, hook, line, and sinker.

Frazie's eyes seemed to glow as she whipped her head over her shoulder. Her grin spread into her cheeks, appearing far too wide to be human. She pivoted on her heels and flung the letters at him, causing Raz to fall backwards as they struck his face. Lunging forward, Frazie snatched the card from his pocket and barely avoided his PSI blast, a few of the loose hairs on her ponytail singing from the close contact.

"Hey! Give that back!" Raz cried as he jumped to his feet. He summoned his levitation ball, but Frazie bounced on hers as well, giving her a clear advantage. They leaped around the yard, avoiding stray juggling pins and Queepie's unicycle. Raz fired PSI blast after PSI blast, but his sister spun, weaved, and ducked her way to victory, exaggerating her movements for the sake of making him rake his fingers through his hair. All he could do was shout, "No fair! You're taller than me! How am I supposed to get it now?"

"All's fair in love and war, little brother," she sneered, flicking the card open.

"Don't! I haven't even read it yet!" Raz jumped at her head, but Frazie deactivated her ball, causing him to careen into the nearby elephant stables.

As he screamed, Frazie read the card. She followed Lili's words with her finger, making sure not to miss a single word. Humming as Raz jumped out of the stable, his helmet and clothes dirtied, she turned around and offered him the card.

Raz snatched it out of her hand, her giggling an assault on his ears. He hunched his shoulders and turned away, feeling her shadow crossing over him once again. He huffed out a sigh and read, Frazie leaning forward and putting her hands on her knees to follow along behind him.

_Hey, Raz! You've only been gone for a few days, but I wanted to send you this card. It's cheesy, I know. Still, a card's a card, and it's nice getting one, right? I got you the newest issue of True Psychic Tales and put it in your office. I haven't read my copy yet, so let's read it together when you come back! You better not not find a copy and read it without me, I'm warning you! Anyway, I'm running out of room, so see you when you get back! ~Lili_

"Man, she dotted her name with hearts," Frazie said, reminding Raz of a certain cheerleader.

"Yeah, she's great," he replied warmly, tilting his head and sighing.

Patting his shoulder, she snickered and skipped to the front steps. As she gathered the mail, she asked, "Young love is a beautiful thing, ain't it, Raz?"

Rolling his eyes, he stuffed the card back into his pocket. He zipped up his coat, now wary of any potential strikes from his other siblings. Following Frazie up the steps, he said, "You know, you're only a few years older than me. You still have time to get a girlfriend."

Scoffing, she held the door open for him and rapped her knuckles against his helmet. As Raz laughed and scampered inside, Mirtala's voice echoing from somewhere to know if she had any mail, Frazie grinned to herself. She was glad that Raz had someone to look after him when she couldn't be there. With someone like Lili by his side, she knew she didn't have to worry about him while he was off saving the world one brain at a time.

Cupping her hands around her mouth, she called, "Hey, guys! Raz got a letter from Lili!"

Raz turned whiter than fresh snow and cried, "Frazie, no!"

Gripping her hips, Frazie he laughed as their siblings pounced on Raz from different hallways, each of them clamoring to know about his girlfriend.


	5. No One Special - Ford and Sasha

No One Special

_Half the names on the list had already been crossed off_. Ford steepled his fingers by his chin, watching Sasha drag his pen through another name. He felt the psitanium pulse on his back, the familiar violet glow emanating around his neck. He gave it a quick tap, ensuring it was securely strapped on to him. The last thing he wanted was to fall back into one of his other selves during such a crucial meeting.

"Cadets Bubai and Athens seemed promising," Sasha mused before crossing their names out, "but they haven't shown any resolve. All they do is make bracelets and apply lipstick."

"And I don't wanna deal with any lawsuits from those prissy kids," Ford added, earning a dry chuckle from his companion. He shook his head. "That girl's an Aura Wrangler in name alone. She's incredible with confusion and some other techniques, but she doesn't wanna chip a nail." He dug his knuckles into his bony cheek, setting his elbow on the picnic bench. "What a waste of confusion grenades."

Sasha raised his head. "And Cadet Athens is painfully standard. Basic telekinesis and levitation. It's a miracle that she managed to attain a Psychic Scout rank."

"And she has the nerve to skip class, too." Ford slapped his hands down, grimacing as splinters pricked his fingers. "Hangin' around with that rich girl is puttin' a real damper on her potential."

"Well, you saw how inseparable they were last summer. I fully doubt that they'll pay attention to any special training you or I offer them."

Nodding, Ford gestured for Sasha to hand him the clipboard. He took the pen and tapped it against the list, counting how many campers they had already deferred to regular classes. Much to his chagrin, it was almost everyone.

The Tender Brains were set aside for obvious reasons. They were beginners, having barely tapped into any potential they might have had. Even though a couple of them had seniority in Whispering Rock, they hadn't improved enough to be called Psychic Scouts.

But one of them had stood out. Cadet Barge was a newcomer with a telepathic range unheard of for a child. Her mother sent them a lengthy email claiming her daughter believed she was an alien and that the voices she heard were from her "real parents in another galaxy." With that knowledge, Ford and Sasha had agreed that she needed generalized training before they could offer her advanced classes. Though, that had not stopped Sasha from putting a question mark by her name, and Ford knew he would be asking her if she wanted some private training sooner than later.

Ford skimmed through the Psychic Scouts who had their names blackened. Cadet Phage was new to camp, and her invisibility astounded them. They were told she could stay invisible for up to three days, but she hadn't shown any other psychic talent. She needed to be examined in Basic Braining before they moved forward with her training.

Similarly, Cadet Doom's precognition was improving, and unlike most campers, she always attended her classes. She hadn't plateaued with her training, but she hadn't improved either. They also didn't want to listen to her lamenting about her tumultuous relationship with Cadet Lutefisk when they wanted her to focus on training, so like many other cadets, she was crossed out.

The remaining Psychic Scouts hadn't proved themselves. Cadet Fir was like Cadet Athens except with the ability to speak with fish. His meekness caused him to deny any opportunity for private lessons. He meandered and whimpered in combat classes, earning Oleander's explosive ire on far too many occasions. Ford knew for a fact that he wouldn't survive a day with Sasha.

Despite being a veteran camper, Cadet Zilch refused to obey. He was fine in classes where he could show off, but otherwise, he was a living nightmare. Neither of them wanted to deal with him. They knew he could have been an Aura Wrangler if he put some time into perfecting his lockpicking or levitation skills, but all he wanted to do was rob kids of their arrowheads.

"Who are we left with? The Astral Warriors?" Sasha asked, rubbing his temples and bringing Ford out of his contemplation.

"Yep," Ford said, smacking his lips together. "We got, let's see here, Cadets Love and Hedgehog-"

"I think you mean 'Hedgemouse.'"

"Same difference!" Ford waved away his correction as if it were tangible. "There's that Cadet Bulgakov, the new transfer from Russia." He hummed and cocked his head. "Wait, why is he here again? Didn't he attack someone?"

Sasha leaned back in his seat, saying, "In a way, yes. Agent Lebedev informed me that he had been defending another child, but it seemed he had nearly killed the bully. I believe his application said something about a 'Half-Deadly Nelson.'"

Ford sucked down a breath. "Yeesh. We're gonna hafta keep a close eye on that one. Vigilante justice ain't gonna get him anywhere in the Psychonauts." He marked Cadet Bulgakov's name with a question mark. "You wanna take 'im or should I?"

"To my knowledge, his prowess is telekinesis, so he might be better under your care." Sasha leaned forward, tapping his foot under the table. "Aren't there any cadets who have some firepower in them? Some of them who won't complain about unauthorized testing?"

Cackling, he smacked the clipboard on the table and jeered, "Oh, come on, Sasha! You got two good young'uns left. Milla said that Love kid was doing wonders with her training."

"But she'd rather play drums or play therapist for the other kids, and Hedgemouse is almost the same." Sasha groaned and dragged his hand down his face. "It's another disappointing roster this summer."

Ford hummed and glanced back at the list. None of the cadets had given them any reason to be interested in them. Certainly, he was going to look after them and make sure they didn't kill each other, but other than that, Ford didn't have any reason to be invested in their progression. Taking one glance at Sasha gave him the same impression, and his heart sank into his stomach as his companion sighed.

He checked the roster again, and his eyes lit up when he spotted two names free of any ink. He quickly pointed at them, asking, "Oh, hey, what about Lili and Boole's grandkid?"

Sasha glanced away and quietly said, "Well, as you and I know, Dogen is a...special case."

Ford shivered. Clicking his tongue, he said, "Oh...right. Poor Shellenberger, that intern didn't stand a chance. Shouldn't have gotten so angry when the kid took too long to answer." He rubbed his neck. "I had to mop up all of her blood and skull bits, too, right here in this very lodge. I think it made Cadet Hoofburger vomit-"

"Yes, I know I was there," Sasha interjected, shaking his head. He drummed his fingers on the table."As for Lili, she's already taken my classes and passed. I could make a new extracurricular activity for her, but…" He shrugged. "...she isn't interested in this camp anymore."

His blunt tone struck a nerve in Ford. Narrowing his eyes, he said, "Well, maybe I should teach her somethin'. Get that girl outta the flowers and into the-"

The glow on the psitanium faltered. He was silenced as if his speech was stripped from him. His eyelids drooped, and a yawn escaped him followed him by a moan which echoed in the still lodge. Rubbing his jaw, Ford glanced at Sasha, a bitter smile creeping onto his face.

Sasha stood up and took the clipboard, which was slipping out of Ford's grasp. He smoothed out any wrinkles on his coat and said, "I'll get you a new batch of psitanium, sir."

By the time Sasha returned, Ford was dressed in his chef's outfit nudging at cold hamburgers on an unlit grill and complaining about campers who hadn't arrived yet.


	6. A Decade Filled With Nothing - Bobby

CW: alcoholism, implied/referenced child abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, depression.

A Decade Filled With Nothing

_He had enjoyed ten years of being totally irresponsible. _Running wild in the streets with an army of boys who feared his psychic powers, Bobby had complete control over his neighborhood. There wasn't anyone who stood against him. If he wanted a kid's lunch money, they'd fork it over with a whimper. If he wanted to shove some poor girl's face into the guts of a dead raccoon, he did it with an ugly sneer stretched into his cheeks. Any sign of rebellion was met with a sharp punch to the face or the threat of being burned alive, and Bobby wasn't afraid of dishing out punishments to anyone who defied him.

He was unhinged and free. He had seen the inside of juvie too many times, but he never stayed for too long. Security guards and parole officers wanted nothing to do with him whenever he arrived and got him out as quickly as possible. When he could pick the locks of the other kids' cells to start a riot, there was nothing anyone could do to prevent him from wreaking havoc.

At sixteen, he grew weary. It was the same routine, the same neighborhood, the same kids who grew up into deadbeats when they once had hope in their eyes. It had all become mundane. Nothing kept his interest for too long. Not even when his boys chopped off a little girl's braids at the crappy playground behind the elementary school or when he smashed an officer's face into the hood of his car when he caught him shoplifting from a grocery store. (It was only a chocolate chip muffin. He had hoped the cop would've been sympathetic when he heard his stomach growling, but he had the nerve to snicker at him and ask why his mom didn't make him breakfast.)

From five to fifteen, he had been wretched. No one would defy him even if his clothes smelled or his teeth rotted out of his mouth. He was the king of the neighborhood, but as he neared adulthood, the urge to throw his crown to his cronies crossed his mind too many times to count.

He had other opportunities that he squandered. He had been offered an internship position at the Motherlobe when he graduated from Whispering Rock. He had rather high marks, his telekinesis, pyrokinesis, and levitation far better than anyone anticipated. Oleander had said that he would have written him a letter of recommendation to put him in a program at HQ to continue his training, too. He had promised that Bobby could be great with the Psychonauts with combat powers which would have skyrocketed him to superstardom.

It wasn't like he had any drive to be a hero like a certain gogglehead. He had laughed in the coach's face at the mere thought of working for the Psychonauts. That memory had been a good one to revisit at fourteen whenever he came home to a clogged toilet.

But at sixteen when he stared at the same broken appliances or the new hole in the ceiling, that memory turned the tables and mocked him.

There always had to be some problem when he came home. Groaning as he inspected the toaster, he realized it was sparking inside and unplugged it. The last thing Bobby wanted was the fucking house to burn down while his stuff was still inside.

Directing his attention to hole in the ceiling, he thought it looked larger. More pink fiberglass slipped out. Wires threaded through the fiberglass, knotted together like shoelaces. Scratching through his hair, he sighed and decided it wasn't his problem. If the old man wasn't going to fix it, then he sure as hell wasn't.

Reaching into his hair, he pulled out a pair of glasses and ran his thumb along the lenses. The red paint on the rims were chipped, but they sufficed. He had just stolen them from Sears a few towns over. When he realized his eyesight was failing three years ago, he took the liberty of keeping that fact to himself and stole ready-to-wear glasses whenever he needed to go up a prescription. By hiding them in his hair when the employees' backs were turned, no one suspected a thing, not even the security guards when they tried searching his pockets for the missing glasses. (It wasn't like the broad was going to buy him anything. She wouldn't dish out a fucking penny for his dentistry either, the metal in his mouth courtesy of one of his gang members' dads. He couldn't remember which boy it was who gave him that chance, but the procedures were free of charge when it should have cost him thousands, and he wasn't going to say no to that.)

Setting the glasses on his face, he frowned when they didn't fit. He pulled the templates and stretched them. Fixing them back on his nose, he sighed. They were a little lopsided, but he could deal with that. He marched out of the kitchen, his footsteps making the tiles creak and flinched.

"That you? That you, Robert?"

He gnashed down on his veneers. He thought his father was still passed out in his armchair.

"Can ya get me another beer? Should be one more in the, uh, fridge. Prolly the last one." He croaked out a laugh. "Don't go havin' it. Hit you with my belt if you do."

With a trembling fist, he glared over his shoulder. The old man's whine was like a fuse setting off his rage. He had every desire to crush the bottle over the bastard's head as he called out to him again in a voice like a dying moan.

Bobby opened the fridge, making sure the drunk heard it humming. He rummaged through moldy fruit and curdled yogurt, grimacing as he snatched the last remaining Budweiser. He curled his fingers around the cool glass, a bit of condensation having settled around the label. The old hag must have taken a swig and left it inside when he noticed the cap was missing.

"Ya got it? C'mere, give it here."

Bobby kicked the door shut, putting all of his weight into the blow. Something plastic hit the shelves inside, which he assumed was the milk when a white liquid seeped out of the bottom of the fridge. Old magnets slipped off the door and landed in the growing puddle. Scoffing, Bobby took the bottle and set it on its side, the alcohol quickly mixing with the milk. The beer's light brown color tainted the pure white liquid, giving it a rustic hue as it spread across the tiles, and Bobby decided the mess was much better than breaking the bottle over the old fucker's head.

_Get yelled at by the broad, shithead. She'll think you did that, _he thought only to suddenly frown.

He felt nothing at all from that. It would have amused him if he were ten or even fourteen. Causing trouble always made him feel something. Whether it was delight from inflicting pain or wrath from someone trying to antagonize him, he always felt something.

But he was numb. There wasn't any joy in Drywell. No matter what he tried to do or how much chaos he caused, that same dullness plagued him like an old throbbing scar.

As he left his shitty little house and glared at the dead brown grass, he sat on the brick stoop. His father screeched from inside, quickly followed by a sharp slamming sound. Dragging his fingers through his hair, he tried ignoring the anxiety swelling in his stomach as his father roared his name.

_I ain't gonna be here forever_, he told himself, but the little voice in the back of his head told him to stop lying.

(He wondered what happened to that alien from summer camp. What was the kid's name? He couldn't remember; they lost touch years ago.)


	7. Earthlings Haven't Changed - Chloe

Earthlings Haven't Changed

_As the dream ended, they chased it, forlorn._ No matter how far they ran, the black hole sucked them into its endless ocean of destruction. The heart of the vortex devoured them, sealing them off from the bright stars and planets, but as they struggled for breath, their eyes snapped open to a world they detested.

Chloe blinked and met the sun rays filtering through the bush. Thorns pricked their arms, and broken branches covered their body. Rubbing their neck, they groaned and tried sitting up only to wince. Their elbows throbbed, and when they inspected them, they found swollen patches of dark blue skin covering a good majority of their arms.

_Bruises again_, they thought, shaking their head. Their mother would worry about the new injuries, but they didn't have time to think about her reaction. Escaping from hostile territory was their priority.

Chloe twisted through the thorns and leaves, stumbling into the parking lot. They glanced around, wondering how much time had passed since they ended up in the bush. Only a few cars were left in the lot, most of them belonging to the janitors. A quick glance at the sky confirmed it was almost dusk, the sky bleeding with reds and oranges instead of a comforting black dotted with stars.

They couldn't spot any students loitering on the basketball court or running around the track. Although they were in the teacher's parking lot, they believed the students must have gone home or were away at games. If they had correctly estimated the time, it must have been nearly 7 p.m., and they sighed, brushing stray thorns off their jacket as they marched towards the student parking lot.

As they anticipated, most of the cars were gone. They knew no student in their right mind would want to spend any extra time in school. Only a few cars remained, but their heart dropped into their stomach when they realized one of them had parked next to their small gray Mitsubishi.

Out from the hot pink Audi stepped a girl with platinum blonde hair and a face caked with too much make-up. Her clothes were designer, wearing high class brands that would make Kitty Bubai blush. They thought those types of girls only existed in the reality show trash they watched while eating dinner. She was flanked with two other girls, both of them irrelevant and bland compared to their leader. Chloe was reminded of the Plusians, renowned for their powerful, beautiful women who beat each other down to rise above their social class.

"Chloe," Gwen Hunter started, smiling with pearly white teeth and bright ruby red lipstick, "you were late to student council. What's up with that?"

Her falsetto tone harmed their ears. Chloe gripped their elbows, saying, "I have nothing to report to the likes of you."

"'The likes of me,'" Gwen crooned, her heels clicking on the concrete. "That's funny. We waited for you, and you know what?" She flicked the taller student's nose, Chloe's face beginning to burn. "We asked Lupita Schaumburg,the new freshman treasurer, remember her? Kinda short, likes to wear frayed jeans." She waved her hand. "Anyway, we asked her to look for you, and she found you in the bushes in front of the school."

The girls behind her giggled, reminding Chloe of a cheap teen movie. They had their smartphones out and ready, their cameras lights blinking red.

"It was sooo strange hearing that, and it got a great laugh out of everyone." Gwen rubbed her hands together. "Like, were you drunk or something?"

"I said I have nothing to report to you," Chloe growled, fishing in their pockets for their keys.

Gwen flipped her hair over her shoulder, laughing. She stepped between Chloe and their car. Tapping her fingers against their window, she said, "Listen Chloe, I know we don't always see eye to eye, but I'm worried about you. Are you being bullied? Did Tommy throw you in the bushes again?"

They tightened their jaw, phantom pain burning in their arms from where he had grabbed them. They remembered his spit landing on their face as he screamed that they were a freak, his tennis buddies cajoling around him to continue. He had shoved them into the school, their head having cracked against the bricks and down they slid into the bushes, their laughter the background music of their descent into a starry dream.

"I keep saying that I have nothing to report to you. Back off," Chloe hissed, and Gwen sucked down a breath, glancing at her friends.

"Oh, my God, Chloe, you don't need to be defensive. If you're being bullied, tell us." Gwen cupped their shoulder and dug her thumb into their collarbone. Sighing, she tilted her head and whispered, "Look, I don't need dead weight from girls in my own grade. "

They twitched. "I-I am not-"

Gwen jabbed her finger at Chloe's neck, her long nail grazing their throat like the tip of a knife. Her lip curled as she snarled, "Shut up. I got chewed out because of you. This is the third time you were late. Even if Tommy kicked the shit outta you, I expect you to at least text me so I can have some excuse about where the hell you are to the vice principal. He's getting on my case about you being late so often that he wants me to bring you to our meetings personally." She dug her nails tighter into their shoulder, Chloe wincing and making her scoff. "Do you understand? Are we on the same wavelength, alien? You gotta report to me from now on or my ass is on the line, and I'm not losing my spot as the junior class president to that bitch Yvonne."

They forced their expression into a neutral mask. Ignoring the pain pricking in their skin and pulsing along their arms, Chloe wished they had woken up sooner. Although they thought they would have become accustomed to their classmates' cruelty, the others had never forgotten what Chloe was like as a child. Their mannerisms stayed with them as they all grew taller and older. They were the alien, the freak, the resident target of their abuse who couldn't escape from their leering and jeering, especially with space so far out of their grasp.

"I-" Chloe swallowed and pushed her arm away. "I didn't even sign up of my own volition. Ms. Kerrington-"

"We know Ms. Kerrington signed you up for it! You're so fucking antisocial that a teacher needs to assign you activities," Gwen snapped, her friends laughing behind her. "Oh, my God! You're a freak, but this is ridiculous. Can't you be normal for once? I mean, at this point, Tommy's teaching you a lesson in how not to be a freak in public." She tiffed and leaned back, flicking her chin up. "For fuck's sake, you really never changed. You're still the same weird little kid, just lanky and still sporting that stupid bow. Aren't you ever gonna grow up?"

Blood pulsed through their veins and warmed their skin. Chloe furrowed their brows, digging their uneven fingernails into their palms. They knew it wasn't their fault why their classmates targeted them. Others hadn't grown out of their childish wiles, and they suffered for it because they were different. When they were a child, they were too short and too blunt to others who wasted their time. Now, they were still too curt, but they were too tall with their head in the stratosphere thinking of space and machines.

When they were all wide-eyed children, the memory of Chloe insisting they were an alien seemed cemented in their minds. None of them forgot, and so they paid the price for years.

Gwen glanced at their bruises, remarking, "Do they hurt?"

Chloe covered them as best as they could, tugging down the short sleeves of their jacket.

She lowered her voice to a whisper. "If you skip out on the next student council meeting, then I'm gonna ask Tommy to make those bruises spread all the way up to your shoulders. Understand?"

Closing their eyes, Chloe knew they couldn't lash out. They could set her and her entourage on fire or PSI blast them into their car, but that would jeopardize everything. They had their entire life ahead of them with the Psychonauts, and they clung to their future plans with both hands, so they nodded, ending the tirade.

"Good!" Gwen chirped, and she pivoted on her heels. She waved her hand, and the girls lowered their phones. "Well, we'll see you tomorrow at student council. Don't be late."

"Did you ask Tommy to attack me today?"

They blurted it out without thinking. Gwen's eyes widened, her long lashes fluttering. She glanced at her cohorts, gesturing for them to continue recording.

"Are you accusing me of something? Do you wanna say it more clearly, Chloe?" She challenged Chloe to continue with a flick of her head.

Swallowing, Chloe evened their glare and said, "I believe my implication is strong enough. If you feel the need to film this, then isn't it acceptable for me to ask that?"

Gwen breathed in deeply. She whirled around, and her friends lowered their phones. She crossed to the front of Chloe's car and pulled out her lipstick. Uncapping it, she marveled at the rich red color before smearing it on the hood of Chloe's car, Chloe's eyes widening as she wrote out a very familiar word. Tossing the lipstick to her friend, Gwen refused to meet their glower and simply extended her middle finger. She leaped into the front seat of her own car, the others following her, and as she revved the engine, she winked back at Chloe, filling the parking lot with smoke as she sped off.

Coughing, Chloe slipped the car keys out of their pocket. They brushed through their short hair, massaging the worn material of their bow. Staring down at the word Gwen left behind, Chloe pressed their palm to their neck, shuddered, and wished they were among the stars.

_Freak_, they thought, that word having followed them since they were a child. _God, I hate humans. At least I can go to the Motherlobe for winter break to get away from them._

(As they got in their car, they wondered what their old friend was up to now that he was an adult. They wished they had kept in touch, but their mother had blocked all communication between them after he left Whispering Rock. She insisted he was a bad influence when he turned down that internship, but he was the only one who fully believed in them, and that belief kept them going. He really didn't know how much he influenced them.)


	8. Ill-advised Wisdom - Quentin and Chops

Ill-advised Wisdom

Smoke still lingered around them. From the trash can by the back exit of the lodge, the faintest hint of gray smog wafted up towards the rafters. The smoldering remains of Phoebe's drum sticks had been tossed away half an hour ago, the girl having stormed off to find their missing band member after sputtering out apology after apology for nearly setting Chops' hair on fire during her explosive fit.

"Hey, sorry again about the whole 'your hair almost burst into flames' thing,' my man," Quentin said, continuing to scratch away at his turntables. He rubbed his index finger against the disc, a wobbling beat filling the otherwise silent lodge.

Sitting in front of Quentin with his legs dangling off the stage, Chops tuned his guitar and plucked the strings. Part of his rhythm was still unrefined, the final note keening rather than soothing. Fiddling with the pegs, he said, "It's cool. No hard feelings." Leaning back, he ran his fingers along the neck of his guitar, flicking each string as he tuned. Chuckling, he glanced over his shoulder and added, "Not like you were the one who almost burned me, eh?"

Quentin snickered and played with a few knobs. Like Chops, he was still searching for a proper rhythm, but his scratches and mixes didn't sound right without Phoebe providing a beat. His tune sounded too experimental, and while he was perfectly delighted to try new styles, it still sounded off. Without any kind of backing beat to keep the music going at a steady pace, his rhythm repeatedly thrown off as Chops continued adjusting his guitar every few seconds.

Deciding to wait for Phoebe's return, Quentin stepped off his cardboard box and stretched his arms above his head. As his back popped, he sighed, and his gaze fell on Chops. Tilting his head, he asked, "Hey, any reason why JT didn't show up? He seemed pretty interested when we asked you two if you wanted to join the Levitators."

Chops' fingernails caught on the strings as he jerked them away, the sharp pull making him grimace. He quickly bit off a hangnail and spat it out on the floor, frowning when it started bubbling with a pinprick of blood. Shaking his head as Quentin sat next to him, he managed to force his mouth into a grin as he said, "No idea. He's probably making out with Elka again."

"Oh, killer," he said, offering a thumbs-up.

Rolling his eyes, Chops said, "It's not killer. That chick is monopolizing him, I just know it." He rubbed his hand against the loose curls of his afro, a few split ends slightly singed from Phoebe's wrath. "Not like I can prove it though. All she does is show up, demand his attention, and JT follows after her like some kind of lost dog." He scoffed and kicked his heel against the stage. "I can barely get a word in with him. As long as Elka keeps hanging on to him, I'm gonna be lucky if I see his shadow."

Quentin hummed, nodding along with Chops' words. They were laced with vindication. His brows were furrowed, and he refused to meet Quentin's gaze. His glare narrowed on an uprooted floorboard from when Bobby threw Clem down on it after the unfortunate boy bumped into him and made him spill his juice on Chloe.

"Well, have you tried talking to Elka about JT?" Quentin asked, his smile pressing into his cheeks.

"Have I tried-? Dude…" Chops leaned back, his eyes wide. "...it's Elka."

"I know she can be difficult, but maybe if you talk to her, then you guys can figure something out. Best to get her side of the story, yeah?" Nodding like a sage, he wrapped his arm around Chops' shoulders and pulled him closer. "Maybe Elka does like being his GF. You'll never know if you don't ask, my friend."

Shaking his head, Chops slid off the stage. He slipped his guitar under his arm and said, "Look, Quentin, she broke up with Nils when camp started and kept lamented about it 'til she got together with JT. I'm pretty sure she's just using my main man as a rebound." His nose wrinkled. "Hate to say it, but he's too chicken to say no to her. He'd let her walk all over me and him and keep his mouth shut the whole time."

Quentin raised his hands, blurting, "Whoa, whoa! Let's not have that bad mojo cloud your thoughts." Leaning forward, he gripped the edge of the stage. "You should talk to her. You'll get a better picture of things if you do, and who knows? Maybe JT and Elka are a match made in heaven, and she wants to spend as much time as she can with him."

"Talk to Elka, eh?" Chops appeared pensive, his lips pursed, and he tapped his foot to an irregular rhythm. "I mean, if JT does like her, then I'm gonna look like I have egg on my face with how I've been acting."

"And that's not a bad look, dude. Just gotta clean it off and start anew."

"Wow, it's uncanny how much you sound like Phoebe. You guys should open a camp therapy office," Chops said, chuckling along with Quentin. He shrugged his shoulders and tapped his guitar on to the floor. "Not like I got anything else to do for today. I might as well find Elka if she isn't too busy sucking JT's face."

"That's the spirit, bro!" Quentin gave him a double thumbs-up and the broadest smile he could muster on to his face.

He waved Chops off as he left through the front door. While he didn't really know what was happening in that strange little love triangle, he still felt that he steered Chops in the right direction. A little positive influence and communication always ended fights and never started them in his opinion, and he was happy that Phoebe agreed with him when she returned from her failed quest to drag JT to band practice.

When Quentin later asked about what happened with Elka after they were all re-brained, he ended up with several pillows thrown at him by both Chops and JT in the cabin area.

i had a dream that i was writing this fic last night, so i made that dream a reality. the next one is also gonna be just like that with phoebe and bobby, so that's why it's not a first line prompt.


	9. Oh, This Is Loathing Chloe Milka Mirtala

this was written before pn2 so this is all speculation about mirtala since all we know about her is that she has giant eyes and has feral baby energy. i had a dream that chloe was in pn2 just so she and mirtala could be foils to bobby and raz' rivalry, and i haven't known peace all day.

Oh, This Is Loathing

"They look really nice," Milka said, leaning over to inspect Chloe's blueprints.

Chloe beamed. The hydro thrusters she had sketched were coming along perfectly, and she was glad her friend agreed. She had spent the majority of the day in the Main Lodge planning the intricate details of her latest spaceship such as where to screw in the nuts and bolts. She even made a few paper planes with coke cans attached to their undersides as scale models, having set them aside to finalize her blueprints with Milka at her side.

"Thank you. All I need to know now is the exact amount of psitanium needed to get them running to break through this planet's atmosphere," she said, smoothing out a few wrinkles on her paper. Tapping her pencil on the nose of her ship, she asked, "Do you think it looks too small?"

Milka hummed, tucking her hands into her lap. "Mm, I dunno. Maybe when you build it, it'll look a lot bigger." She cocked her head. "You still planning on bringing Bobby with you?"

"Of course," she affirmed with a single bob of her head. "He may have graduated from camp, but he is still my second-in-command."

Milka nodded and went back to her own drawing. She was drawing another picture of Elton, her formerly crude stick figures more refined after two years of practice. She swung her legs underneath the picnic bench as she added shadows under Elton's bangs, a tiny grin on her face.

Chloe returned to her work. She was glad to have a friend like Milka sitting with her as she continued sketching. She was quiet, observant, and no-nonsense sense of girl. Chloe would ensure that she'd be spared if Earth's population needed to be thinned under the Galactic Federation's orders.

They didn't need to talk. The silence was comfortable as they continued drawing. Unlike others, they didn't need to keep jabbering about nothing, filling the space between them with dead air. Milka's crayons dug into her page as she lined the stripes on Elton's pants, almost overpowering Chloe's quick pencil strokes as she added more seating to her spaceship. They continued on with their business, the only other sound being Ford's spatula smacking down cold patties on an unlit grill until his snoring filled the lodge, alerting them to the fact that he had fallen asleep standing up again.

"Hey," Milka began, causing Chloe to raise her head, "I'm gonna go show this to Elton."

"He'll be very impressed with your improvement," she said, Milka's cheeks turning a shade of pink.

Milka giggled under her breath. She ran her fingers through her shoulder-length hair and pressed her drawing to her chest. Turning invisible, her skipping footsteps made Chloe smile as she hurried out of the lodge.

_Interesting. She still becomes flustered when discussing Elton's appreciation for her work. Human emotions are so bewildering! _Chloe thought, leaning down and unzipping her backpack. She pulled out one of her many spiral notebooks and flipped to a recent page. Taking her pencil, she wrote down her observation and clapped her notebook shut, pushing it away to return to her blueprints.

And then, something jingled behind her.

Chloe paused, her eraser pressing against a misspelled word in the margins. Looking over her shoulder, she tilted her head as Raz' little sister flounced inside from the back exit. She remembered her name was Mirtala, and judging from the badge clutched in her tiny fist, she had finally passed Basic Braining, granting her the opportunity to freely explore camp without a chaperone.

Certainly, she was interested in the other girl. Considering she was related to Raz, she expected the same level of levity and wit she had experienced with him. He had humored her in the past, even bantering with her about the Trynaxian galaxy. There was never any irritation in his voice, and when Mirtala caught eyes with her, Chloe expected similar results.

"Hey! You're that alien kid!" Mirtala exclaimed, throwing her finger out.

"Yes, I am that 'alien kid,' but my name is Chloe," she said, nodding.

Mirtala cocked her head and asked, "You know aliens aren't real, right?"

Chloe drew back, the question more like a punch to her stomach. She blinked, her lips parting without any sound. She stared at Mirtala as if she had grown a second head, her own shock too great to fully comprehend.

Although she had encountered that question many times from other children and adults, it still stupefied her when she met someone who doubted her. It was her first conversation with Mirtala, but she was already proposing that she wasn't an alien. Having met others such as Bobby, Elton, and Milka who believed her almost made her forget that others denied her existence, and hearing it from someone like Mirtala made her heart flutter a little faster.

"Aliens aren't real. My sister says they're fake things so people can make up lies about Area 51," Mirtala said, leaping over to the stupefied Psychic Scout. She spun on her heels and quickly dug her elbow on the table, grinning up at Chloe.

Chloe shook her head. Closing her eyes, she sucked down a breath and sighed. The little voice in her head told her that she was being pranked. Kitty had pulled a similar trick on her last summer, putting notes on the bulletin board meant to goad her into an argument about the legitimacy of her alien heritage. She certainly wasn't going to fall for another trap, especially since Bobby had been the one to straighten Kitty out by punching her so hard in the mouth that she lost a tooth, and he had to spend an entire day in the GPC, an endeavor she joined him for out of guilt.

"To say that aliens aren't real is nonfactual. In fact-" Chloe tapped Mirtala's shoulder. "-by saying that, you're denying all aliens who live in other galaxies and universes. You can't say all of them aren't real when there are still many possibilities that they exist elsewhere. I am proof of that."

"So, you're a human pretending to be an alien?" Mirtala asked, pinching another nerve Chloe didn't know she had.

"No, no, you're not understanding me." Chloe steepled her fingers. "What I am saying is that just because humans, with their lack of technological advancements, haven't discovered aliens in other parts of the known galaxy and universe, does not mean they don't exist in other unexplored areas of space."

Mirtala shook her head, the bells on her head ringing in an octave Chloe suddenly found very, very irritating. "But you said you're proof of that despite looking like a human."

"Wh-? I'm not human, you-you earth chimp," she snapped, her hands balling into fists. Leaning back, she splayed her fingers and swallowed. She would not let herself be riled up by someone she hardly knew.

"Raz told me you think you're an alien, but that doesn't make sense, like, you look so human!" Mirtala exclaimed, throwing her arms up. Humming, she leaned forward and clapped her hands around the sides of Chloe's helmet. "Oh, hey! You kinda look bald under your helmet. Maybe that's why you think you're an alien. Your hair just doesn't grow like those weird gray aliens they use in old movies."

Another nerve had been pinched, and Chloe's cheeks burned. Her shoulders tensed, and she screwed her expression into something similar to anger. She ordered Mirtala to release her, scowling when Mirtala continued rocking from side to side, pulling Chloe in either direction of her inane wobbling.

As if she hadn't realized what she said was offensive, Mirtala asked, "So, if you're an alien, you shouldn't be able to breathe oxygen, right?"

"Yes! Yes, that is true," Chloe said, reaching up and gripping her wrists. She tried pulling her hands off, but her grip was too strong. She noticed she wasn't even breaking a sweat as Chloe struggled to push her off, gritting her teeth as she tried her best to remove the nuisance.

"So, let's try it!" Mirtala snatched the underside of Chloe's helmet and shouted, "Yoink!" as she yanked it off her head.

Chloe blinked as air conditioning brushed through her short, buzzed hair. She remained perfectly still, her lungs and heart coming to a full stop. The natural colors of the lodge blurred together, the orange tint of her helmet gone away with as Mirtala grinned down at her.

And then, Chloe snatched her throat, flailed her legs, and collapsed to the floor. She gasped and gagged, struggling for breath. Kicking her seat, she felt her blood rush between her ears. Panic settled in her head, her mind racing for solutions while refusing to cooperate with her body. All she knew was that the poisons of the planet's atmosphere were seeping into her through her exposed mouth, nostrils, and even eyeducts, already feeling lightheadedness plague her senses and numb her body.

"Hey, you're gasping!" Mirtala cried, humor flitting in her tone. She set Chloe's helmet on the picnic bench and crouched, grinning impishly. "See, you're breathing, and point proven, you're a human."

Chloe stopped her struggling. She remained on the ground, her expression blank. Slowly sitting up, she breathed in slowly. The air wasn't poisonous much to her chagrin. She supposed that her own anxiety had caused such a strong reaction, and she breathed through her mouth, the cold air filling her chest.

"The air is...clean," she said, her eyes wide. "That's-that's-no, maybe my genetics have become accustomed to this planet? How curious."

"Oh, whoa! You're really cute with your helmet off," Mirtala said, tilting her head, her jingling bells igniting something like fury inside of Chloe. "Wanna go out? What do you say?"

Dragging her gaze to Mirtala, she narrowed her eyes into slits and remarked, "When the necessary planetary thinning arrives, I will ensure you are the first to be eliminated."

Her shoulders slumped, and Mirtala huffed, "Wow, okay, way to be a sore loser."

And in that moment, Chloe fully understood Bobby's compulsive need to hate Raz.

Grabbing her helmet, Chloe shoved it back on her head. Lowering her voice, she hissed, "You are...very annoying. You are the most annoying creature I have had the misfortune of meeting on this polluted rock."

"I mean, I can live with that. I got four siblings who tell me the same thing on a daily basis," Mirtala replied, Chloe feeling like the blood vessels in her eyes would pop at any second.

"Mark my words," she said, folding her blueprints and looping her backpack over her shoulder, "I will not forget this transgression. When my people come for me, I will forego my natural mercy should they choose to exterminate this planet."

Mirtala winked. "You're cute when you say scarily big vocab of the week words."

Chloe's vision blanked, the memory of what happened in-between those few seconds a complete mystery to her.

The next thing she knew, she had thrown her belongings to the floor and tackled Mirtala into a row of stacked picnic benches.

When Milka returned, she was completely baffled to find Chloe telekinetically shoving Mirtala into a trash can. All Mirtala could do was scream as Milka rushed over and opened the back door for Chloe, allowing her to roll Mirtala out all the way to the parking lot.

"You had to fight a ho, and I missed it?" Milka asked, aghast as Chloe rubbed her hands together.

"Apologizes, Milka. It will not happen again, but if it does, I will graciously accept your help." She raised her head and wiped a bit of blood from her nose. Grabbing Milka's shoulder, she added, "Also, thank you for being a true friend."

Milka bumped her fist into Chloe's and said, "No problem. We gotta stick together to beat the new hos in camp."

"Agreed."

Later on, Chloe penned a very long letter to Bobby telling him of her ordeal with Mirtala, and he wrote back that he was more than supportive of her "kicking Mirtala's ass back to the circus."

chloe, 22, slamming open the door to milka's office: milka you're not gonna believe the shit mirtala pulled today  
milka: spill the tea chloe i got your back.


	10. An Obvious Ruse - Nils, Elka, and JT

An Obvious Ruse

_Everything about her was a lie. _Elka was a master manipulator. It was as if she latched on to his every word, but then, she picked apart what she wanted to hear and ignored any useless jargon. If Nils said, "I was at the lake for some of Milla's special levitation training and met up with Crystal and Clem afterwards," then Elka heard, "I was at the lake with Crystal."

There had been a time when he thought Elka was incredible. Last year had been his first summer at camp, and she swept him off his feet. She was stylish and beautiful with full blonde hair that he could thread his fingers through and bright eyes that he got lost in when they parted from a kiss. She was coy, too. She easily kept up with his flirting. When he told her that her rosy lips would look better on him, she cut him off by kissing him right on the mouth. Nils broke away seeing stars and almost thought she was the one. Bantering with Elka was more fun than he could imagine, especially since the other girls wanted nothing to do with his dalliance, allowing him to focus his efforts on getting to more bases with her.

It should have been a casual fling. At first, Elka was fun. They went on long walks in comfortable silence. They shared kisses under the sunlight and moonlight. They helped each other in classes whenever they weren't in the back making out. He even enjoyed helping her with clairvoyance, using it as an excuse to hold her hand or kiss her cheek.

But then, he started noticing the cracks in their relationship. Elka tightened her grip around his hand whenever he glanced at another girl. She dragged him away if he winked at Crystal and kissed him instead when he demanded to know what she was doing. Casual comments towards Phoebe and Lili were shot down by Elka snapping that he was her boyfriend and that they needed to "back off."

It became apparent to Nils that Elka was two-faced. She presented herself as his charming girlfriend when they were alone, and then, she was an innocent victim to his wiles if any other girl happened to be around. The other girls hadn't seemed upset when he hit on them. His dad told him that all girls liked it, that it made them feel special, but Elka blamed him for every problem that arose in their relationship because of it. When he complimented Kitty's makeup, Elka accused him of wanting to kiss her. After he blew Phoebe a kiss while she played during the camp talent show, she punched his shoulder and loudly claimed that he wanted to break up with her in front of everyone with her eyes full of unshed tears.

Mortification followed that very public incident. The wasted hours he spent listening to her talk about her foresight when he could have been dating someone else taunted him. Hearing her lament about her parents' eventual divorce filled him with apathy and annoyance. She had been the one to manipulate him throughout their relationship, and she had the gall to try to make him pity her, which made his stomach churn as she prattled on and on about the future they would eventually share, one she insisted would be better than her parents' marriage.

That scared him the most. Elka insisted they would be together. She said it with such certainty that he almost believed her. Her pointed way of talking felt like he was being cursed by a witch, plaguing him as she took his hand and dragged him down an unknown, thorny path.

So, on the last day of camp, with his bags in hand, he walked past Elka and pecked Lili on the cheek.

Elka lost her mind and broke up with him right then and there in front of everyone. Shouting that he was a pig, that he was the reason all men were evil, she screamed in his face that they were through forever. She bawled all the way to the airport, filling the bus ride with nothing but misery as the other campers endured her sorrow. Phoebe tried comforting her and seemed happy to do so, but as Nils sat in the back of the bus enduring spitballs from Bobby and Benny and watched Crystal and Franke include themselves in Elka's pity party, he told himself that being slapped by Lili was worth it.

Breaking free from Elka had been the best decision of his life. He ignored her phone calls and deleted her voicemails. He went on with his life while she stubbornly tried winning him back. A few snide comments on Campster was all he gave her. Nils finally had control over his life again, and he even looked forward to Whispering Rock in hopes of securing a new girlfriend so he could fully forget his time with Elka.

But when he returned to camp, he realized JT was ensnared. It was obvious JT was Elka's rebound. Elka paraded him around, calling him James and refusing to leave Chops alone with him for a minute. It was a sorry sight. He wished JT luck online, but seeing it in public made him question their relationship, and as soon as Elka left JT alone in the lodge, he decided to hear him out.

"Dude," he said, leaning into the picnic bench, "what are you thinking? Are you insane?"

JT fiddled with the brim of his ten gallon hat. He cleared his throat, replying, "I can't fathom what ya mean by that."

"You and Elka? Really?" He sighed and shook his head. "You know she's only dating you to get back at me, right? I mean, it's pretty obvious."

JT leaned back in his seat, his brows furrowed. He narrowed his eyes at Nils, his pupils constricting as he said, "I reckon that ain't it. Elka's a fine girl. 'Sides, ya ain't so innocent. You did somethin' terrible kissin' Lili like that outta the blue last summer." He crossed his arms. "That was a mighty bad thing to do, Nils, when you were with Elka. Made that lass cry all the way to the airport."

"Come on, bro, no offense-" Nils clasped his hands together, choosing to ignore JT's sharp remarks. "-but unless you're suffering from amnesia, there's no way you forgot how me and Elka were last summer. Sure, we were hot and heavy, but man, she's a stick in the mud. You can do a lot better. Trust me." He flicked his wrist. "Seriously, you should break it off before she starts saying you guys are gonna honeymoon in the Caribbean."

Glancing at the floorboards, JT tugged at his bandana. With the way his head was angled, Nils couldn't see his expression. He itched his neck, his own collar suddenly suffocating him. It wasn't like he and JT were close. He didn't know him like Chops did, but seeing him wrapped around Elka's finger forced Nils to pity him, which only grew stronger when Elka emerged from the bathroom shouting at "James" to stop talking with Nils, and as he stepped back, letting JT leap up from his seat to dart over to her, he shook his head.

_Poor guy doesn't want to believe she's using him, _he thought as Elka cast him a glance, her eyes filled with yearning as she dragged JT out the front door. _Good luck, dude. You're gonna need it._

tbh, nils is my least favorite camper. i don't care about characters who are overly flirty or hit on others. this was originally gonna be about chops' annoyance with elka, but honestly, that seems like a beating a dead horse at this point since i've already written something like that, and after reading a comment nils made about elka saying "Oh, that's the other thing she's really good at. Ignoring. Neglecting. Until you start dating someone else that is, then she stops ignoring you pretty quick" had me wanting to change the fic from chops to nils. i still don't really care about nils, but that comment gave me a little more insight into how he views their relationship and how it soured.


	11. Demoralized - Lili

Demoralized

_She couldn't believe it. Was it really him? _Lili clenched her jaw at the sight of her motionless father. He seemed too peaceful on the cot with a pillow propping his head up. Compared to the blank expression and glazed eyes he had in the Rhombus of Ruin, her dad appeared perfectly normal. There wasn't any sign of stress in his face. With no wide eyes, pursed lips, or stiffness in his body, she felt like she could have pretended that he had never been tormented by Dr. Loboto or poisoned with near-deadly psilirium.

But that wasn't a forgettable nightmare. It happened. It wasn't something she could ignore like she frequently did with classes at Whispering Rock. Her dad had been captured, brutalized, and all she could do was watch him rest, the slow rise and fall of his chest making her bite back a hiccup.

She stepped closer and glanced at her hand. The new fingerless gloves she had would have made him smile. He had once joked that gloves were in fashion among Psychonauts, which made the Lesser Head roll her eyes.

Lowering her gaze, she touched his hand. She wrapped her fingers around his palm and frowned at the looseness of his grip. It was a sharp contrast to the strong hands which would have helped her garden or push her on the swings in their backyard. She knew he was sleeping, or perhaps unconscious, but there was always strength in his hands even when he relaxed.

The whole situation still mystified her. She had been through two dangerous events, each of them happening over the course of a day. The first one threatened to end the world while the second nearly took his life. For any regular child, that was enough shock to last them a lifetime, but she was Lili Zanotto. She was the Grand Head of the Psychonauts' daughter and a powerful cadet who mastered herbaphony and earned all of her merit badges without special treatment. If anything, what happened over the span of the last couple of days had her thinking about what she wanted to do with her future.

She had been discouraged with the Psychonauts. She felt like the world didn't need them anymore. Times had changed while people stayed the same, but her dad didn't believe that. He championed the idea that the Psychonauts were heroes and wanted to reform the agency to suit his vision. Lili was proud of him when he succeeded as the Grand Head, but when the years wore her down, she started to think with indifference towards the Psychonauts.

But then Raz broke into Whispering Rock. The boy who rekindled her passion for the Psychonauts and single-handedly saved everyone in Whispering Rock wanted that same glory. Raz earnestly believed the world still needed them even though he knew nothing about the inner workings of the agency, and for him to become the youngest person accepted into the agency inspired her to work harder just like her dad had done.

Guilt gnawed at her stomach. Her dad would have been shocked to hear what she had actually thought about the Psychonauts. He put his heart and soul into the agency while she had slowly drifted from his ideals, and all it took was an energetic boy with a drive for change and a helping hand to make her think otherwise.

Raising her head, she stared at the long row of books in front of her. They were her dad's personal collection. Stories filled with legendary psychics recalling their battles before the agency was formed lined the wall. He was an avid reader and passed down those stories to her when she nestled in her bed, a memory of her dad smiling as he flipped open a hardback to tell her about the adventures of the 18th century psychic Maria the Mystifying making a ghost of a smile appear on her face.

Pulling her hand back, she hoisted herself onto the cot and kicked her legs out. She rubbed her thumb against her palm, the coldness of her dad's touch lingering like phantom pain. Chewing on the inside of her mouth, Lili stayed by his side and wished she could tell him how much she loved him, but one glance at his face told her she would be waiting for a long time.


	12. Flare Up - Phoebe and Oleander

Flare Up

_The accident wasn't her fault. _Phoebe repeated that mantra to herself as she sat in the treehouse. Her head was bowed, her chin tucked to her chest. She tapped her heels into the wooden floorboards, but the rhythm was off and jarring, a jittering cacophony. Focusing on specks of dirt staining the tips her white tennis shoes, she continued tapping, her restless energy hardly quelled when she heard the floorboards creak from the other side of the treehouse.

Coach Oleander hobbled towards her, his gait uneasy. He pressed the bandage on his cheek, smoothing it on his skin so it wouldn't catch in his moustache. In his other hand, he held his riding crop, the tip of it dragging along the floor as he came closer to Phoebe.

She willed herself to raise her head as she asked, "Is Kitty okay?"

He sat in his old, rickety chair, nodding. He pressed a few buttons on his radio and tucked the antenna down. Turning around to face her, he crossed his ankles and cocked his head, asking her what happened.

Phoebe's cheeks darkened, the red burning in her face making her appear nauseous. She certainly felt that way when her stomach flipped at his question. She wrung her hands by her lap and fiddled with the hem of her camp shirt, her eyes darting to the various drawings Oleander had hung up around his classroom.

"We're not going to get anywhere if you don't say anything," Oleander interjected, his eyes narrowing. "In interrogations, the silent treatment never works for the enemy, so you better start talking. I won't ask again."

She bit back her scorn. She wanted to tell him there wasn't any need for him to snap at her. Guilt already gnawed on her insides, and sensing his vitriol only worsened it. Sucking down a breath, she tried mentally counting to five, but Oleander cracked his knuckles, demanding an answer before she could even start.

"She was-" Phoebe cleared her throat. "Kitty was using her powers on Quentin again."

Oleander leaned back in his seat. He shifted his gaze to the entrance, natural sunlight filtering through the shadows crossing the pillows and couch. He let her continue.

"I saw her do it this time. Her pupils, I think, were spinning, but she definitely had him under her spell. He was doing her homework for her while she played with his hair," Phoebe recalled, a few strands of curly hair coming undone from her bun. They spilled on to her cheeks as she lowered her head. "I confronted her. I told her she needed to stop and leave him alone, but she-" She dug her fingernails into her palms, ignoring the faint burn marks crossing over her veins. "-she tried hypnotising me! I know she was trying to do it! She-she told me that I needed to go find someone else to bother, and-and-and she started twirling her fingers through my hair, and I felt so tired and heavy all of a sudden, and I knew I was about to really be under her control, um, when…"

Oleander crossed his arms over his chest. "'When?'"

"Well, uh, that's-that's the thing." Phoebe rubbed her neck, her face as red as a nasty sunburn. "I just flared up. I had my inhibitors on-" She touched her headphones. "-but it still happened. I just saw red and orange, and it got so hot, and the next thing I saw was Kitty holding her face and crying." She flinched, the memory of Kitty writhing on the ground in the lodge suddenly too much for her. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to remember the terror etched in Quentin's features when he snapped out of Kitty's control, realizing what she had done. He had even dropped to his knees to help Kitty, making her feel more like a monster than a person.

Oleander breathed in deeply and held it. He watched her reaction, taking mental notes on her guilt and terror. He expected that was the case. Kitty had been exerting her will over some of the more mild mannered campers, and her frequent threats to sue the camp made it difficult to punish her for it. He knew Ford kept tabs on Kitty and who she hypnotized, but when he heard that Phoebe burned her, he thought it was in retaliation for Quentin's sake. He really couldn't blame Phoebe when he had half a mind to lock Kitty in the GPC every single time he heard her causing trouble. If the impending threat of the infamous Bubai family lawsuits weren't hanging over his head, he would have done it a couple summers ago.

But Phoebe wouldn't lash out without thinking. She wouldn't attack anyone in camp without a good reason. A few summers ago, she only burned kids who tried bullying others. She almost set Bobby's hair on fire when she was seven after he tore through Quentin's favorite scarf for no reason. She was a good kid, if quick to firestart anything that moved suspiciously, and watching her stifle back a sob tugged at his heartstrings.

"I-I-I'm-I'm really, really, sorry, Coach," Phoebe said, chewing on the insides of her mouth. Her shoulders hunched as she leaned forward. "I know I shouldn't have burned her, but I just-I just got so frustrated and-"

"You burned her eyebrows off."

Silence followed. Phoebe dragged her head up and blinked. She appeared like a fish out of water as her mind processed what Oleander said.

"Did you say-? I burned-? Like…" She gestured at her face. "...clean off?"

"Clean off," Oleander replied, smirking. "Wasn't even a mark or a burn. They're just-" He snapped his fingers. "-gone. Poof. Like some kind of magic spell gone wrong."

Air puffed past her lips, and she quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. She chortled, her shoulders quaking, her heart skipping a beat. Imagining the Kitty Bubai, the girl who cared for her appearance more than anyone else in Whispering Rock, without eyebrows, made her burst into laughter. She was unable to stop while the mental image of Franke trying to draw them on for her with violet Sharpie markers fueled her fit, her lungs aching as she gasped down air and coughed up laughter.

"Oh-oh, my God! I shouldn't be-shouldn't be laughing, but I didn't know I burned them off!" Phoebe sputtered through the spaces of her fingers.

"Yeah, it's quite a sight. She can't pluck those brows during my class anymore," Oleander said and pushed himself off the chair. "So, now that I have your side of the story, cadet, I've decided that you were protecting your comrade from the wiles of the enemy like any good Psychonaut would."

She cut her laughter short, a noise of disbelief escaping her. "I'm not in trouble?" she asked, straightening her back and staring up at him, her brows furrowed.

"No, no, not at all. Between you and me…" He gave her a knowing look and grinned. "...she had it coming."

Phoebe smiled, all traces of guilt leaving her features. She swung her legs as she kicked off from her seat, saying, "Well, thanks for understanding, Coach. I was really worried you'd, I don't know, give me some more work to do or kick me outta camp."

Oleander hummed and smacked his riding crop into his hand. "I mean, if you want some extra assignments as punishment-"

"Oh, no, no, there's no need for that!" she blurted and skipped out in front of him. Backing up to the entrance, she waved her hands and tittered. "I-I'm good, and since I feel so, so, so guilty and ashamed for what I've done, I've learned a very valuable lesson. I'll work on my issues and won't flare up again! Bye!"

Phoebe hurried away, not giving Oleander time to respond. She felt like she could fly, her body so light and airy. She almost didn't know what to do with herself. Flaring up had never given her good results, but this time, the outcome favored her. She knew there was a selfish undertone in her reasoning, that Kitty still lost her eyebrows, but as she ran to Main Lodge where Quentin would be waiting for her, she told herself it was the funniest thing that had happened to her all summer. It was completely worth it.

Oleander watched her scurry down the steps, the creaking rungs growing quieter as Phoebe escaped. He rolled his eyes and smirked to himself as he returned to his radio. Turning it back on, Oleander settled back into his seat and decided that Phoebe's brain would be more than valuable in due time.

tbh this was another warm up fic to help me get going with secret santas! milla was originally gonna replace oleander, but then i remembered i haven't written anything with him in this series, so i put him in. it was originally gonna be sadder, like milla comforting phoebe and feeling kind of uncomfortable because of her trauma, but oleander going "lmao don't be upset you burned kitty's eyebrows off nice job" and phoebe going "LMAOOO" right back was a lot funnier in my head.


	13. Single King - Benny, ChloeBobby

a pseudo follow-up to my fic "please could you kiss my name?" and also brought on by that one meme of the couple kissing while the third wheel sips from their drink.

after some thinking, i decided i like the idea of benny working in the media relations department at hq because he definitely is NOT going out in the field. it'll get his tweed jacket dirty.

Single King

"Hey, listen, I'm really happy you two are dating, but stop making goo-goo ga-ga lovey-dovey make out with me eyes in my cubicle," Benny deadpanned, holding his smartphone to his chest.

Sitting across from Benny in his cramped quarters, Bobby burned brighter than his hair. Chloe's face was hidden by her helmet, but despite the reflective, orange material, her face was notably red. Smirking at their stupefied silence and wide eyes, Benny brought the phone back up to his ear and continued his conversation with a Hollywood producer, which was really him listing off every reason why the Psychonauts would not approve of a child psychic being violently crucified by a group of Christian extremists.

"I don't care if it's appropriate for a period piece, and I don't care if the movie is rated R! It's a terrible image for psychics. Make the alterations. The Psychonauts might consider approving the movie if you do," Benny ordered before tapping the end call button. Lacing his fingers together, he grinned over at his friends, asking, "So, where were we? Oh, right, you two finally hooked up. New Year's kiss and all that shit?"

Setting her hand on Bobby's when his fingers tightened into a fist on his knee, Chloe said, "Yeah, Benny, that's exactly what happened."

"And I can't believe it was you confessing to him," Benny sneered, digging his elbows into his desk. He waved his hand. "You know, I imagined this whole thing with lots of crying and passionate kissing, but that was practically a snore-fest. Worse than Vernon's crap."

"Shut up," Bobby hissed, hunching forward and leering at him. "What the fuck was with that 'goo-goo ga-ga' whatever the hell you said comment?"

Benny rolled his eyes. "Because you two were looking at each other with such affection that it made me wanna puke." He widened his eyes and softened his expression, his lips turning upwards in a tiny grin. "See? It was like this. How was I supposed to concentrate on that big Hollywood movie deal when you two were looking like you wanted to swap spit in front of me?"

"I'm pretty sure that expression doesn't mean anything like that," Chloe replied, narrowing her eyes at him.

"It does! Seriously, it does," Benny insisted, brushing off her retort.

"No the fuck it doesn't," Bobby growled back, Chloe leaning her head on his shoulder.

Benny snickered. "Yes the fuck it does."

Bobby glanced down at Chloe, asking, "Can I attack him? I'll make it so clean no one will suspect me, and I won't go on probation."

"No, Bobby. Even if he's being annoying, violence isn't the answer," Chloe said, patting his arm as Benny flinched and leaned further into his seat. Straightening her back, she took off her helmet and set it on his desk. Glancing at Benny, she added, "Though, if Benny is annoyed with a simple gaze, perhaps I should continue this new experiment with some…" She grinned up at Bobby. "...evidence gathering."

Benny scowled as Chloe wrapped her arms around her boyfriend's shoulder and proceeded to kiss his face. Hearing Bobby breaking into a stupid giggling fit before locking lips with her made him slump halfway into his seat. He dragged his hands down his face, wishing he hadn't said anything as they proceeded to do exactly what he asked them not to do, knowing they were doing it just to spite him.

"Stop, stop, stop, don't make out in my cubicle," he whined, his friends ignoring his pleas while he wallowed in despair over his lack of a girlfriend.


	14. Hobbies - Chloe and Bobby

Chloe asks Bobby about his interests, making him realize none of them are good.

Hobbies

"I've talked a lot about my plans today. I feel like I've talked your ears off." Chloe chuckled and rolled her shoulders back. "So, how about you? I know your hobbies, but I'd like to learn more about them from my fellow ambassador."

Bobby blinked and raised his head. His hand fell off his cheek and into his lap. He stared at the tiny girl across from him, her many blueprints for potential spaceships having been pushed aside when she asked the question. She even put her hands on her neck and leaned forward, staring at him with wide, dark green eyes full of intrigue and waited for his answer.

Chloe's question jarred him. He had been listening to her talk about her latest schematics. While he had only been able to catch maybe two out of five words when she spoke, it was nice hearing her talk so passionately about her project. Even if the conversation had been one-sided, mostly with him nodding along and smiling or asking a simple question about what little he knew about rockets, Bobby was happy to have someone to hang out with on the slower days at summer camp.

But he never expected her to turn the tables. Asking him about his hobbies was like walking on a minefield. Any of the topics he liked spurred disgust from his peers. Even the counselors looked at him with poorly concealed contempt during class when he laughed about killing woodland critters with a perfectly timed PSI blast on one of his walks.

Although he reveled in those reactions, he found himself fiddling with the hem of his stained jersey in front of her. He didn't want to offend Chloe by talking about lowbrow shows or gory movies. He didn't want to see her face scrunch up in disdain like the other campers would when he'd mention the brutal kills in Texas Chainsaw Massacre or how he collected photographs of the diseased, mangled roadkill outside of his parents' trailer and stuck them around the Boys' Cabin.

"I, uh, like…" He trailed off and rubbed his neck. His eyes lingered around the lodge but found no help. Chef Cruller was making something inedible on the grill, the sound of his spatula scraping against the cold metal grating his ears. Crossing his ankles underneath the picnic table, he glanced at the media room, hearing the high-pitched voices of cartoon characters, Maloof and Mikhail having secured that area for themselves.

Chloe's voice dragged his attention back to her. "Is your species not allowed to discuss that topic? Is it private?"

He shook his head too quickly, and the room spun. "N-no, no, I'm just, uh…" He tightened his grip on his neck, and his uneven fingernails pierced into his skin. "...thinkin' about stuff."

"Like what?" She tilted her head, her helmet shifting with her.

He drummed his fingers on the table. Tiny splinters pricked back. Bobby cleared his throat, his brow furrowing as Chloe trained her eyes on him. He couldn't think of what to say. Despite racking his brain for anything appropriate, nothing he could have said sounded normal.

"How often do you pick locks? Is that a common trait of your species?" Chloe suddenly asked, focusing on his fingers.

Bobby's eyes lit up. "Oh! Oh, yeah. Picking locks is way easy," he replied, breaking into a lopsided grin. He rested his elbow on the table and cupped his cheek. "It's like a game, ya know? Fiddling with those, uh, inner mechanisms of the lock and getting everything just right to pop it open."

"Just like working on a shuttle," Chloe said, nodding.

"Exactly! Or like cracking a code." He leaned back, his anxiety ebbing away. "Ya ever try it?"

"My telekinesis isn't as accurate as yours as you can see," Chloe said, setting two fingers to the side of her helmet. She narrowed her eyes on her blueprints, deep in concentration and summoned a light purple telekinetic hand, one much smaller than Bobby's. It quivered, its fingers twitching as she tried making it grab her blueprints only for it to fizzle away like a puff of smoke. Smoothing down the new wrinkles in her plans, she added, "But if I work on it more, I'm sure I'll have that precision."

"I can help ya!" he blurted, showing off more of his green gums. "I mean, well, I ain't as good in pickin' up heavy stuff, but if you wanna be more detailed with telekinesis, I'm your guy." He cupped his hand around his mouth and lowered his voice. "If you wanna break into Crazy Cruller's locker in his crappy hut, then that's the best way to start. He keeps all the confiscated stuff in there."

"He does?" Chloe asked, surprising him. He thought she would have gently reprimanded him for suggesting they steal from him. He also could have sworn she was pouting behind her helmet, which was notably very cute. She crossed her arms and glared at the floorboards. "Coach Oleander took my phone. I was in the middle of altering some of its programming to connect to satellites when he snatched it from me after catching me he working on it after lights out."

"He did? Jackass," Bobby seethed in a hushed whisper. His fists clenched. He knew Oleander was a moron who couldn't understand how brilliant Chloe was for working on a scientific project like that. He certainly couldn't fathom any of those electronic doodads, not that his parents could afford them, but her talent for creating something out of nothing always impressed him.

"Affirmative. I would like to retrieve it." She cupped her hands around the sides of her helmet. "But only my phone. We shouldn't take the others' belongings."

He nodded. Cocking his head at the front door behind him, he asked, "Ya wanna give it a try now? The coot's gonna be carving at the grill for another half hour."

She shared in his conspiracy with a tiny grin. Collecting her blueprints, she compiled them in a neat stack and offered them to him. Bobby carefully rolled them into a tube before shoving them in his hair, which had quickly become Chloe's preferred place for her personal belongings from the prying eyes of the Girls' Cabin.

It made him smile knowing she trusted him that much despite not knowing him for too long. Others who really knew him made the right choice in staying far, far away from him.

Someone as cool as Chloe, who looked up at him with big, shining eyes and asked him if he was ready to go, made him feel like he was the king of the world. He nodded and followed behind her as they left the lodge, more than happy to let her lead the way on their private mission, and he truly believed she was the only one trying to understand him.


	15. Silver Bells - Mirtala and Donatella

Mirtala finds her mother's jewelry box and although it's filled with pearls and sapphires, she becomes captivated by a pair of dusty bells.

Silver Bells

_Among her mother's possessions, she found_ two bells in an oak jewelry box. Sitting cross-legged on her parents' bed, she cupped one of the bells and raised it to eye level. As she expected, it was smooth and sleek, bigger than her hands. The bell jingled with every twist of her wrist. The grayish-blue tint matched her eyes and silk cape without any hints of brick red rust, and blowing off the leftover dust, she smiled when it shined a little brighter.

Humming, Mirtala swung out her legs. She wasn't sure why her mother would put bells in a jewelry box, especially among the round pearls and cuts of jade and sapphire. They were unusual compared to the gems, making her believe they had somehow gotten mixed in when her mother was cleaning.

"I see you're done with your chores."

Mirtala broke into a smile as Donatella appeared and leaned into the door frame. The red lace and silk portière rested on her mother's shoulder. Mirtala cocked her head, saying, "I sure did."

She took one long stride into the room and stood before her daughter. Her arms slowly crossed over her chest. "You certainly finished cleaning the stables faster than I thought. I haven't heard a single complaint out of you today about doing it, either."

"Oh, well..." She giggled and tilted her head the other way. "...you know, Mom, it's Queepie's turn to do that, but I did set up all the chairs for tonight's performance." She batted her eyelashes and tipped her chin to her chest. "That's why I decided to have a well-earned break."

Donatella nodded and tucked her cloak around her. She sat next to Mirtala, the bed creaking quietly in response. Her eyes lowered to her jewelry box. Although she had organized them by their cut and size, the gems were scattered in the velvet interior, victims of Mirtala's eager hand pushing through them.

Taking the jewelry box off Mirtala's lap, she set it between them. Leaning into her, she offered her hand, and Mirtala set the other bell in it. She rolled it in her palm, the ringing pleasant in her ears compared to Augustus mediating an argument between Dion and Raz over psychic powers outside.

"My mother gave them to me," she said with a sigh, "and her grandmother gave them to her. They're sterling silver bells passed down to the first girl in our family."

Mirtala frowned. If that were true, Frazie should have been given them already. But instead, they gathered dust in her mother's jewelry box tucked underneath her bed seemingly forgotten.

Sensing the question Mirtala wanted to ask, Donatella said, "Frazie said they weren't her style. She insisted her feathers were better than bells."

Wrinkling her nose, Mirtala snorted, "That's dumb. She has no taste." She huffed and crossed her arms, keeping her bell cupped upright. "Who in their right mind would wanna wear a headband with feathers instead of a sterling silver bell?"

"She also didn't want to seem too gaudy in case she met any nice girl after a show," Donatella added, shaking her head.

"'Gaudy?' What's gaudy about bells? Only a blind person wouldn't be able to see how nice they are," Mirtala sneered, her lips curling upwards. She tossed her bell up and down. "Someone who wears only one earring wouldn't be able to appreciate them."

"And I know you will," Donatella said, her comment almost making Mirtala miss the bell on its way back down.

Gasping, Mirtala clutched the bell to her chest. She smiled so hard that her cheeks pushed up against her eyes and forced them into a squint. Bobbing her head up and down, she was about to ask Donatella to put them in her hair only for Donatella to pluck the bell from her and set both of them back into the jewelry box.

"But you can have them after you clean the stables because Queepie told me you gave him Jolly Ranchers to do it for you," Donatella said, matching her daughter's smile.

She gawked and gasped, her fingers splaying out as she sputtered, "Bu-! Wha-? How did-? You shouldn't know-I mean, Queepie-!" Mirtala's mouth dropped open an inch. She quickly clenched her fists, furrowed her brows and hissed, "Queepie, that lying little gremlin! I gave him Snickers, too, and he betrayed me? Some brother he is!"

"You can't trick me, Mirtala. I'll always find out." Donatella laughed and gently poked her nose, Mirtala sticking out her tongue in return. She set the box on her own lap. "When you finish with the stables, come back here, and I'll put the bells in your hair. I think they would look really nice underneath your ringlets." As Mirtala pouted, stubbornly crossing her arms and glaring at the corner of the bedroom, she patted her shoulder. "They'll bring out your crown. Wouldn't you like that?"

Glancing at Donatella out of the corner of her eye, Mirtala's mouth quirked into a grin. She pushed herself off the bed and wrapped her arms behind her back. Skipping towards the door, she tilted her head and looked over her shoulder, saying, "Well, I guess it's a fair trade, but when I'm done, let's put 'em in my hair A-S-A-P! I wanna look my best for tonight's performance!"

Her daughter scampered out before she could reply. Tucking the bells back into the box, Donatella smiled at her reflection. Small wrinkles at the corners of her mouth lifted as she remembered her own mother weaving the bells into her long braid, and she couldn't wait to have Mirtala sitting in her lap so she could do the same for her. Shutting the box with a quiet click, she stowed it back underneath her bed and decided to make sure Mirtala finished her end of the bargain, a faint feeling of nostalgia welling up within her when she remembered a similar conversation she had with her mother around Mirtala's age about chores and the family bells.


	16. Fool Me Once, Shame On Me - EltonMilka

Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice, Shame On Me

_As she stopped to catch her breath, she looked back_. The sun, a bright bloody red orb beginning to dip into the lake, assaulted her eyes and cast an orange hue over the sea green water. Milka gasped down air much like that beast had done when it opened its maw too wide and allowed her to see its ferocious, jagged, misshapen teeth that would have put Bobby's mouth to shame.

She rubbed her throat and hunkered down on the rickety steps leading to the lake. Her knees popped from the sudden movement. The noise assaulted her ears and her thoughts. Although it meshed well with the ruffling wings and cries of the seagulls as they flew overhead, Milka wished that sound could have come from the spine of her beloved's captor.

Like many other campers, she had thought the Hideous Hulking Lungfish of Lake Oblongata was a myth. It was supposed to be a baseless rumor spread by Bobby and Benny to scare new cadets. She even used that rumor to punish them for making her poor sailor fret over the lungfish they abused with manic glee, having chased after Benny with a lungfish all the way to the lodge before revealing her trick, giggling at how quickly the color drained from his face when he understood he made an ass of himself.

Unlike most rumors, which turned out to be nothing but hot air, the Hideous Hulking Lungfish of Lake Oblongata existed. Just as Elton claimed, it was real and more monstrous than she could have imagined. Lunging from the lake and showing off its lumpy, rotund form with bulbous glowing eyes the size of her head while Elton wailed next to her, it had jabbed its lure on to Milka's striped shirt with pinpoint precision and dragged her towards its mouth heaving out the stench of rot. She didn't even have the chance to beg or scream as she stared down at what she thought was oblivion, a seemingly endless darkness awaiting her before screwing her eyes tightly shut.

But Elton had saved her. He had managed to telekinetically pull her back by her arm just as the lungfish dropped her. Having tossed her into the lake, he had cried out for her to swim before she plummeted. Her limbs had flailed, clumsily clawing at the water as if it were tangible. The lungfish had scattered around her in a frenzy, disorienting her attempts of reaching the surface. The waves had shoved against her backside and knees, throwing her onto the shore and smattering her clothing with sand and seaweed.

Her sailor was gone when she turned around. As if the Hideous Hulking Lungfish and her beloved never existed, they had vanished into thin air. Calm had returned to the waves. The lungfish continued their underwater route. Lizards paced by her feet. Not even Admiral Cruller seemed bothered, continuing to scrub his canoes until they shined in his quarters.

She was left to gasp and plot his rescue and her revenge. She raked her fingers through her bobbed hair. Split ends stuck to her cheeks like the wads of bubblegum Kitty pressed into her hair when she slumbered in her bunk. She tried smoothing them back only to find bits of debris, frustration and anxiety boiling in her stomach and making her eyes well with tears as she tore off shards of seashells and clumps of sand trapped in her matted locks.

Gnawing down on her lower lip, Milka tried thinking of a plan, but logic replaced itself with fury. She couldn't believe her happiness had been dashed by a monster she had deemed imaginary. Punching her knees, Milka grunted and flared her nostrils. Each hit wouldn't bring Elton back, but she continued grinding her knuckles against her thighs, desperately trying to weave some coherency back to her thoughts only for them to be crushed again and again with violent vows of revenge.

Elton had tried warning her.. He said the lungfish were worried when they stopped for breath. He said they were restless, that one of their own had gone missing, that something must have happened to it. She had tried reassuring him that Bobby and Benny must have been toying with it, and he believed her with a half-smile, unlike the full grin he would have presented to her if he really accepted her answer.

Milka snarled and shoved herself forward like a wolf lunging at its prey. Her legs shakily hit the lumpy shore, sand quickly entering the gaps in her soaked sneakers. Balling her hands into fists, she stormed towards where they had once stood, her eyes locking on to the one item left behind by her beloved, Admiral Cruller's humming becoming static noise in the back of her thoughts.

His hat was her only memento. It slouched to the side where they once stood. Reaching for it, Milka chewed so sharply on her lower lip that she pierced through it. As she curled her fingers around the heavy, wool material, she tasted copper on her tongue and pulled his hat to her chest, stifling a sob.

She froze when she inspected it. Elton's hat was an off-white color with an anchor stitched into it. It shouldn't have had an appendage clinging to it.

Milka's eyes widened. She tried to take a step back, but the Hideous Hulking Lungfish rose from the depths and lifted her with it. She kicked her legs out, grunting and glaring at the monster, ramming her heels into its scarred upper lip. Milka writhed as it leaned backwards, opening its mouth wide enough to fit her, and she tightened her grip on Elton's hat as if it could protect her.

She flashed one last look at the lake when it shoved her down its stinking throat. Despite the sunset casting red hues across the water, the water surrounding the beast was the color of Elton's eyes.


	17. Intentions - Maloof Kitty Franke Mikhail

Intentions

_His hiding place had been discovered. What on earth was he going to do now? _Maloof trembled, tears welling in his eyes as Kitty and Franke advanced on him. They were armed to the teeth with eyeliner and lipstick. He had thought they wouldn't search the dank, wet cave leading to Lake Oblongata, but evidently, they weren't deterred by the puddles surrounding their designer shoes or the salty, musty odor lingering inside.

"Well, you sure gave us a hard time," Kitty sneered, twisting off the cap to a bright scarlet lipstick. The _pop _made Maloof flinch. She relished in how he stepped backwards, his hand gripping the smooth rock behind him for support.

"Yeah! We searched your usual spots, but you weren't at any of them. We even thought Bobby tossed you in the GPC again," Franke added, opening and closing her compact. The constant _smack smack smack_ pounded in Maloof's ears, warning bells of what was going to come.

"Right? We even asked Bobby if he locked you in there. I had to spend a solid thirty seconds asking Bobby a question and avoiding his spittle when he called me fat again." Kitty gazed at the stalactites above her head and watched a water droplet fall from one. "Ugh, he smelled even worse than this cave does, too." Shaking her head to banish the memory of interacting with Bobby Zilch, she curled her lips into a sneer. "But I guess it was all worth it in the end. We have a nice, new Armani silk powder to try on you. Stay still, and don't make this any harder on yourself."

"That's right! We gotta test it on someone else first, y'know! We don't wanna break out in hives like last time," Franke chirped, missing Kitty's glance.

He jerked his head towards the exit. He made out the rickety, slanted wood of the steps and the thin trees with bark peeling off them. If he ran now, then he had a good chance of evading their telekinetic hands, but his feet remained cemented to the puddle he currently stood in. He hunched to the side, his spine awkwardly bending as they marched towards him, Franke continuing to open and close the compact, Kitty grinning into her cheeks and pushing them upwards.

"You really do make a good doll, Maloof," Kitty said and looped her arm around his shoulders. She squeezed his cheek and left a red welt behind, smiling as Maloof whimpered. "Ah-ah! Don't start crying now when Franke's about the apply the blush. This one's not waterproof. It won't stick if you bawl like a big baby." She flicked his cheek, grimacing as he wetly sniffled, his pudgy, round nose wrinkling in a way she likened to a piglet.

"Yeah! You should've gotten all that crying out earlier," Franke said, pocketing her eyeliner and taking off the tiny brush clipped to the back of the compact. She rubbed it against the powder, the white brush now hued with a dark emerald color that Kitty had said would bring out her eyes.

Despite his squirming, Kitty kept him pinned to the spot. Maloof wished he knew teleportation, but he was merely a Tender Brain with a Basic Braining badge. He was years away from mastering levitation. Unlike Milka, he could only stay invisible for five seconds. Even though anger brewed in his stomach, he couldn't channel it into firepower. He knew he was no match for either of them with his pitiful telekinesis that could only lift something light off the ground for a couple of seconds. He couldn't even use telepathy like Chloe to beg someone outside for help, leaving him to his fate as Franke aimed the brush to his cheek.

"H-hey, stop! I don't-I really don't wanna-" Maloof hiccupped, cut off by another giggle from Kitty. He winced as she dug her nails into his shoulder, threatening to rip into the shirt his mother had bought for him before camp started.

"You're such a crybaby," Kitty jeered as Franke continued smearing the blush on his cheeks. "It looks great on you! Seriously, it does. You look like, hm, like one of those models they use in Toys R Us magazines."

"We should get him some Barbie dolls, and he'll really look the part," Franke replied, pulling back to admire her handiwork.

Maloof narrowed his eyes at Franke, his cheeks burning hot. Kitty removed her arm but stood in his way. He resisted the urge to break into a sprint but knew his stubby legs would only get him so far with Kitty's powerful telekinesis. She wouldn't even break a sweat like he probably would have if she chose to dart after him. His humiliation made the tears in his eyes blur his vision, their laughter causing his head pound and overpowered the water droplets splashing into the puddles from the stalactites.

"Okay, blush applied. Now, some Charlotte Tilbury!" Kitty twisted the lipstick and aimed it like a dagger to Maloof's quivering lips.

But through his tears, he noticed a subtle shift in Franke's expression. Her smile faded by a molar. She suddenly turned to look over her shoulder, the movement also catching Kitty's attention, and the squeak escaping from Franke's mouth signified to Maloof that he had been saved.

Mikhail ambled towards them, eyes narrowed on Kitty. He glanced between the girls, an eyebrow neatly arched as he wondered why they were in the corner. He knew they preferred to stay at the lodge, but when he spotted Maloof cowering between them, he scowled and gestured for the smaller boy to come to him.

"Thought Mikhail heard hairless bear in here. Turns out it is flouncy girls going back on what was clear among everyone," he said as Maloof broke between them, his smirk hidden when he tucked his chin. He cracked his knuckles. "No one messes with Maloof anymore."

"We-we weren't-!" Franke gulped as Kitty quickly twisted her lipstick back into its container. "We weren't messing with him," she quietly finished and pocketed Kitty's compact.

"That so?" Mikhail inspected Maloof's face, the tears and blush making his brows furrow. "Not the case, hm?"

"No, no, they-" He sniffled and rubbed his nose free of mucus. "-they trapped me here and did that to me."

Kitty clicked her tongue. She didn't anticipate Mikhail would come to Maloof's rescue. She knew she should have kept in mind that Maloof had retained Mikhail as a bodyguard, but she thought Mikhail was in Oleander's advanced combat class. It should have been the perfect opportunity to mess with Maloof, but knowing when to cut her losses had been ingrained in her since she was a toddler, and she didn't want to face the wrath of the rumored Deadly Nelson.

"We did, and we're sorry," she said, sickeningly sweet. She gently touched Franke's forearm when her girlfriend gawked at her. "In fact, we're so sorry that I'll-" She reached into her pocket and procured a handful of arrowheads. "-give you these. I'm sure it'll make up for what we did."

Mikhail telekinetically took them from her. He handed them to Maloof, who grinned so hard his cheeks ached. He counted ten arrowheads, which was enough to let him buy more Dream Fluffs with the arrowheads given to him by other cadets in his protection services.

"Hm, okay. I suppose this is fine," Maloof said, Kitty scoffing at his arrogance. He cocked his head and smirked. "I'll let you go this time, but next time, I won't be so generous."

"Yeah, yeah, let's go Franke. We already got what we wanted," she grumbled, taking Franke's hand and leading the confused girl out of the cave.

Maloof sighed as they left. He hugged the arrowheads to his chest, exclaiming, "Wow! I can't believe how easily you got them to back down, Misha."

Mikhail grinned. "Is nothing. They are crafty and had number advantage but lack physical prowess." He crossed his arms and pinched his elbows. "Girls with skinny arms like theirs? Very easy to defeat. Almost boring."

Chuckling, Maloof thanked him, and Mikhail nodded. He was happy that he had struck up his partnership with Mikhail. It certainly gave him the protection he craved at Whispering Rock, but being in his presence also comforted him. Even if he didn't realize it, Mikhail gave him reassurance that everything would work out in his favor no matter what traps or bullies awaited him at Whispering Rock, and as he followed Mikhail out for a private telekinesis lesson, Maloof knew that the rest of the summer belonged to them.


	18. Daylight Saving Time Bobby MikhailPhoebe

Daylight Saving Time

Bobby watched the time change from 3:03 p.m. to 3:04 p.m. on his phone and scowled. He leaned into the wall and tapped his heel against it, waiting for the door to Phoebe's office to open. He had been standing outside of her office for only a few minutes, but Phoebe was punctual. She always started their sessions on time, never a second too early or too late and always adhered to the time limit.

Tapping his foot a little faster, Bobby narrowed his eyes on her nameplate only to utter a confused grunt. Leaning forward and stuffing his phone into his jeans pocket, he noticed the nameplate was slightly crooked. Compared to the orderly interior of her office, the slight discrepancy struck him as strange. When he had glanced at his phone, the nameplate had been perfectly centered. Now, it had somehow lowered by an inch, and when he came closer to her door, he saw one of the nails hammered into it jostling, threatening to loosen the nameplate in its entirety.

He held his knuckles to her door only to pull away when the door shuddered. Cupping his hand to his ear, he heard muffled laughter murmuring from within. But it was deeper, resonating and rumbling, nothing at all like Phoebe's voice.

_What, she's got another dumbass to psychoanalyze instead of me and goin' overtime? _Bobby thought, scratching through his hair and lowering his eyes to her doorknob.

He hadn't tried opening her door yet. He usually let her welcome him in when it was time for his session. Curiosity seized his hand, and he placed it on the doorknob. He let it linger, debating with himself on whether it was right to waltz in when another peel of deep laughter made him twitch, his hand jerking to the side and twisting the knob. (Though, as the door flung open, he knew he would have opened it anyway, privacy be damned.)

Standing in the doorway and letting the hall light bleed into Phoebe's office, Bobby blinked at the strange sight to his left. He wasn't sure what to make of the tangled limbs and awkwardly positioned agents next to him. He didn't know how to take Mikhail's arm slowly lowering from the spot on the door where he had been gripping, the same area where the nameplace was outside. Even though Bobby took in the scene fully, staring at Mikhail's legs wrapped around Phoebe's waist, her holding him up to the wall, their faces flushing red, the rest of her office in the same orderly fashion that he knew, Bobby couldn't completely fathom what he was witnessing.

"Feels a lot like summer camp in here," he finally said and broke the silence.

Phoebe immediately parted from Mikhail and let him slam on to the ground. She thrust his fingers into her wavy curls, blurting, "Bobby! Bobby, what are you-? You shouldn't-you shouldn't be-not yet-I-" She cleared her throat and tittered nervously, avoiding his wide-eyed gaze. "It's not time-it's not time for your appointment," she lamely finished.

"Uh, yeah, it is. I ain't stupid enough to forget," he retorted, taking out his phone for her to see the time.

"Wha-? It's already three o'clock?" She quickly jerked her head at Mikhail as he rubbed his bottom. "Isn't it two o'clock? It was just two o'clock a few minutes ago."

"Eh, should be," Mikhail weakly offered, getting to his knees. He looked at his wristwatch and raised his arm to her, clearly showing the hour hand on two.

At the confusion crossing their faces over the mismatching times, Bobby rolled his eyes. "You guys know it's Daylight Saving Time, right? Move the clock forward an hour or something like that?"

Phoebe fiddled with a hair tie around her wrist and quickly looped her hair through it, the frizzy locks going out in a few different directions. She smoothed them through her fingers and shook her head, mumbling, "What, what, what? But that can't be right. It's…" She looked over at Mikhail as he continued sitting on the floor, now examining his phone. "Hey, what time does that say?"

Mikhail pursed his lips. He slowly got to his feet and sucked in a breath, held it, then sighed it out. He turned his phone around for both of them to see, Bobby grinning and crossing his arms as he basked in his victory.

3:10 p.m. was emblazoned in crisp white letters against Mikhail's phone background, which was a photograph of too many brown bears to count on a grassy field with one of them wearing his hat.

"Huh," was all Phoebe said as Mikhail pocketed his phone.

"Will, uh, see self out," he said, Bobby twisting himself out of the way while Mikhail stumbled out of her office.

"See you later," she called, and Mikhail shut the door behind him.

Bobby watched Phoebe groan and drag her hands down her face. She stumbled away from him over to her desk, and Bobby bent forward, snatching Mikhail's abandoned hat off the ground, the furry material very warm. Tossing it between his hands, he waited as Phoebe slouched into her armchair, pulled out his file from the metal cabinet next to her desk and dropped the large manilla folder on to her desk, her expression completely blank.

"Wow, Dr. Love, I didn't know you liked gettin' frisky," he said, tossing Mikhail's hat into her lap.

He ducked out the way when she threw a spare pair of drumsticks at his head and cackled while she did her very best not to roast him like a pig on a spit.


	19. Radio Talk - Raz and Bobby

Radio Talk

Asking for back-up proved to be more troublesome than it was worth. His fellow campers were more concerned with making out than saving the world. While Raz appreciated JT and Chops guarding the cabin area, others like Kitty and Franke giving themselves manicures irritated him to no end. He was glad he had saved their brains, but he thought they could have been a little more appreciative by at least feigning interest in his plight.

Ford had told him that it was up to him to stop Oleander. Raz wanted to believe his fellow PSI cadets would have been a part of that. Standing up to the man who stole their brains and betrayed their trust, he thought they would have tried proving themselves like real Psychonauts would, but he supposed the other kids' circumstances and motivations were different from his own.

Trekking up the wooden planks of Oleander's treehouse, Raz came across someone who immediately made his eyes roll. He quieted his footsteps, the floorboards creaking nonetheless as he approached Bobby. To his surprise, Bobby focused on the coach's radio, not bothering to even glance at him or smack him on the shoulder like he had done when he was brainless.

He already knew the answer, but Raz took a breath and asked, "Hey, wanna help me save the world?"

A heavy sigh escaped Bobby. His shoulders lowered, but he pressed his knuckles against his hip, and they burned white. He tilted his head, melancholy dripping in his voice as he said, "She used to love that radio."

Raz leaned back and followed Bobby's thousand-yard stare. He remembered Oleander snoring up a storm next to it, a small puddle of drool accumulating underneath his cheek on his desk. But when he thought back to the beginning of the day, he hummed and nodded, glancing at Bobby out of the corner of his eye.

"We'll be re-braining Chloe really soon," he said, smiling and shrugging.

Bobby stiffened, his words cutting through his pensiveness. His eyebrows rose, and his mouth fell open an inch, a wordless shock coming over him. He furrowed his brow, his breath held in his throat, and he twisted his body to Raz, keeping one foot still pointed at the radio.

"You are? Ford's gonna do it right, right?" he demanded, his final word strangled.

"Well, he's been re-braining everyone else, and you seem to be fine for the most part." Raz snickered and crossed his arms. "Unless concern is a new personality trait Ford secretly stuck in you."

He looked ready to jump out of his skin. "Wha-? Shut up! Shut your stupid mouth!" Bobby barked, clenching his fists and stomping towards him. His freckled cheeks burned hotter than his knuckles, but he suddenly shook his head, his fiery hair quivering with him. He lowered his voice and dug his finger into Raz' collarbone, hissing, "Just-just make sure she's okay, got it, Gogglicious? If the coach doesn't kill you, then I sure as hell will if anything happens to her."

Raz set his hand to his temple and flicked it in a mock salute. "Sure thing, Hair Boy," he sneered, and he pivoted on his heels, deciding he was not going to gain an ally in his fight against Oleander.

He felt Bobby's gaze on him as he left. Quickly glancing over his shoulder in the entranceway, he suppressed a chuckle when Bobby grimaced when their eyes met. Bobby leered back at the radio, and he turned sideways, tightening his grip on his hip. Raz wiggled his fingers in a slight wave before making his way back down the planks with a spring in his steps, hurrying off and taking out the bacon for Ford to send him back to the battlefield.

Bobby scratched through his hair and grumbled to himself after Raz left. He knew the coach was crazier than ever. Keeping his attention on the radio Chloe adored, he slowly rubbed his arm and shivered as a chill trickled down his spine, a quiet part of him, which he tried ignoring, hoping everything would turn out okay.


	20. Another Runt of the Litter - Lil' Oly

If you are sensitive to animal death, gore involving rabbits, or somewhat abusive language towards a child, please skip this chapter.

Another Runt of the Litter

_He could hear everything, but dared not open his eyes. _The squeals reached his ears, followed by the scrapping of claws on the cutting board. Daddy grumbled, tightening his grip around the rabbit's pure white underbelly, and Morry's stomach squeezed as if that hand had wrapped around him. He rubbed his stomach, bowing his head as Butch hissed at the rabbit to stop squirming, his growl laced with malice, his shadow covering both bunny and boy.

Another shriek ripped free from the back of the bunny's throat. Loud thuds echoed from her feet pounding on the cutting board. Her struggles were met with another snarl, Morry keeping his eyes squeezed shut as Butch reached over, the sharp jut of his knee bumping into the side of Morry's head.

"Move aside. I can't reach 'em," he snarled, and Morry, covering his eyes, scampered.

He bumped into a counter and rubbed his head, His brothers laughed outside, darting across their yard. Morry bit back his whimpers, one of them shouting at the other to go long. His mama's voice filtered in from the open window, the air and her tone too sweet as she asked them if they wanted some lemonade.

Metal scrapped against the cutting board. It made his molars ache, their nerves feeling inflamed. He cupped his jaw, his fingers pressing into pudgy skin, but trying as he might to remain in the dark, he felt everything. The fear boiling in the bunny's gut was his own. His throat ached as the bunny screamed itself raw, thrashing on the board as Daddy's shadow shrouded him, but Morry knew. He knew the inevitable.

Flesh parted as the knife split open her belly. Blood pooled and stained her fur crimson. Beady black eyes bulged and shined brighter than ever before. Her tail twitched, and her limbs beat on the board as Daddy withdrew the blade, bones crunching with another squeeze.

Morry nearly doubled over. Vomit filled his mouth and almost gushed out like a raging waterfall. He swallowed it down, tasting a chunk of meat from last night's stew. He groped his belly, feeling as if his intestines were squirming and coiling around his other organs, trying to free themselves from his round body from an invisible wound.

Another scream emerged and was silenced just as quickly. Daddy dug deeper, twisting the blade in her gut and carving through muscles and organs. He grunted and shoved it deeper until the tip of the blade hit the board, the veins on his arms bulging as he finished. The bunny gasped, expelled her bowels, and collapsed, her ears flopping over her face.

Morry's knees knocked, his lungs failing to expand as acid mingled with urine. Still blinded, he reached for the table with a pale white hand, a splash of red covering it in his mind's eye. And he tried ambling away, his daddy continued to slice and dice at his leisure through fur and muscle, humming a tune they had heard on the radio.

Morry should have been used to the stench, but the copper was too rich. It wafted around him, like a painter brushing the air with bloody, wispy streaks. He bit back his moan, his body weighed down with squirming entrails begging to see the light of day and mocked him, continuing to fill his mouth with raw, soiled meat..

"What's wrong with you? Hiding another runt," Daddy spat, not sparing him a cursory look. He dragged the blade along the cutting board, bloody droplets becoming one with his smock. He snorted and gripped something unknown to Morry, but it squished and squelched in a way that made his stomach churn again. "You know better," he hissed, "especially since this one was even smaller than the first. Don't let me catch you hiding another runt, y'hear me? Don't make Daddy catch you again or else."

Lips trembling, all Morry managed was a nod. His tiny legs carried him out before his eyelids could part. Escaping into the hallway, Morry blinked open his eyes and let the tears welling in the corners of them trickle down his cheeks.

But as he dragged himself over to his mama waiting in the doorway, he realized his tears were rich and coppery, staining his face and clothes like the rabbit's ichor draining down the sink.


	21. Bright and Early CrystalLili, Oleander

some crystal/lili requested by questionette on twitter based on a writing prompt post i reblogged!

Bright and Early

At that moment, Lili was supposed to be listening to Coach Oleander. He had gathered everyone to the reception area at the crack of dawn. While the children blinked sleep out of their eyes and Oleander went on another tirade about their collective disciplinary issues, Lili could not focus on any of them.

Not even her own weariness could deter her from stealing glances at Crystal. The younger girl sat next to her on a rough log, her hands folded in one of the pleats of her pale pink skirt. She tucked her chin to her chest and yawned, hidden from Oleander's scrutiny by the amorphous mass of Bobby's hair in front of them.

Lili did not acknowledge Oleander marching around on his hollowed out tree trunk stage. Nor did she hear the yelp coming from Elton when Oleander whipped his swagger stick in front of his nose, demanding to know if he was the one who smeared mud all over his jeep. Milka biting the crop right out of his hand went unnoticed as well while she watched Crystal rub her eyes, another yawn ghosting past her lips.

Even though Crystal hadn't applied any eyeshadow or eyeliner, her eyes sparkled when she opened them. It was cliched to say they reminded Lili of sapphires, so she decided they looked like hydrangea petals. Accompanying them were long eyelashes. Unlike Kitty and Franke, who needed to apply a generous amount of mascara to lift them, Crystal's eyelashes were natural, curling upwards and reminding Lili of two halves of a heart.

The noise of her fellow campers continued like static from a television screen. Lili ignored Phoebe trying to pry Milka's jaw from the riding crop or Benny's hyena-like laugh piercing through the chaos. When she had a girl as stunning as Crystal right next to her, so close that their shoulders were touching, Lili found the world fading away when Crystal caught eyes with her.

But it wasn't only her face which captivated Lili. Crystal hadn't had time to pull her hair into a ponytail, letting her long, magenta tresses fall down her back. There wasn't a greasy sheen coating the top of her head or a hair out of place. It framed her face perfectly, softening her cheeks and bringing out the deep blue of her eyes, and Lili could have sworn she saw flecks of pink within them.

"Wild morning, huh?" Lili whispered, the words stumbling over her tongue.

Crystal grinned and nodded. "Sure is. I hope that Coach isn't too mad at-"

"Privates, I better get an answer in the next minute or there's gonna be hell to pay!" Oleander barked, tearing his swagger stick out of Milka's mouth and cutting Crystal off. He narrowed his good eye at the teeth marks and ignored the little smirk on Milka's face. He slapped it into his other hand, bits of spit flying from it, and he snarled, "Anyone feel like talking or am I gonna have to start reading minds? And if I have to do that, then I'm making everyone run laps around my mental battlefield, and it doesn't matter what rank you are or what badges you got! Everyone means everyone!"

Crystal gnawed on her lower lip. As the others glared at the usual suspects, she fidgeted with the hem of her camp shirt. Lili's gaze lowered, noticing Crystal's nail polish had slight chips through the sunshine yellow coat polka-dotted with teal. Crystal rubbed her thumb along her nails, her cheeks flushing a hint of scarlet as voices rose around her, accusations running wild while Oleander sneered that time was running out.

Lili rolled her eyes. This was taking longer than she expected. It was also making Crystal uncomfortable, and she was not going to let her feel that way any longer. Raising her hand, she announced, "Hey, Coach, I know who did it."

"Well, who is it? And speak up faster next time! You can't keep critical information to yourself on a mission," Oleander snapped, Crystal tilting her head at her.

"Yeah, well, you could've solved this mess by checking the security cameras. That would have saved so much time," she said, Oleander's mouth twitching and Crystal stifling her giggle behind her hand. "Since you clearly aren't gonna do that-" She aimed her finger at the back of Benny's head. "-it was that rat right there. I saw him throwing cans of mud at your car on my morning walk." She scoffed. "Seriously, Coach, check the cameras next time."

Benny shrieked and tugged on his earlobes. His reaction cemented his guilt in Oleander's mind, his harrumph making Lili smirk. Oleander dismissed the other PSI cadets, telekinetically carrying Benny away by ear as he cried about his innocence. Lili pushed off the log and brushed invisible dirt off her skirt. The other kids shuffled around her, heading off on different paths, and Crystal scurried with them, following Clem presumably to the Main Lodge for breakfast.

Lili trailed behind, stuffing her hands into her skirt pockets. She kicked stray stones and pinecones into tall blades of grass. As robins sang overhead and Crystal's laughter chimed because of something Clem said, Lili's eyes followed her until she was nothing but a pink and yellow dot in the distance, a chill coating her hands despite the humid weather.

_Man, you're cute, _Lili thought, stuffing her hands into her skirt pockets.

Up ahead, she could have sworn she saw Crystal stumble over a stray wooden plank leading up a hill. Her long hair swayed in the wind as she looked over her shoulder, and Lili wondered if their gazes met. With the sunrays bleeding through the trees and making her squint, Lili told herself that was impossible.

_Oh, wow, thank you so much, Lili! You're super cute, too! _Crystal thought, and she vanished from sight with Clem.

The smile blossoming on Lili's face denied her doubts. She fidgeted with her bracelet and trekked into the forest. Wondering if Crystal would have liked hydrangeas, Lili decided to introduce her to some she had recently grown in her garden the next time they were alone together.


	22. Dream Fluff Melancholy - MaloofElka

requested by a tumblr anon who asked for elka/maloof with the prompt "why do you care?" from a cliche writing prompt list i reblogged.

Dream Fluff Melancholy

Elka Doom was late with her payment.

That fact didn't so much as bother Maloof as it intrigued him. Compared to his other clients, Elka was timely. She paid her dream fluffs at the start of the week in exchange for Maloof's services, which mostly consisted of him and Mikhail spying on Nils' interactions with the other girls in camp. It was a simple business transaction that had been rinsed and repeated over the past month, Maloof finding it was easy money while it bored Mikhail to tears.

Elka forgetting to pay him was out of the question. Punctuality was a big part of her personality. Maloof remembered how she had barged into the boy's cabin at dawn and dragged Nils to the coach's class when he tried sleeping in. She had even ignored his stumbling, forcing him to walk off in his pajamas up the rickety planks while the uncouth boys Maloof was forced to share a cabin with laughed at his plight.

That meant something had come up, and Maloof decided to investigate. He couldn't let her go without paying. Perhaps she had to spend a few extra minutes in a class or she was trying to skip out, unable to procure the arrowheads needed to buy the dream fluffs. If she was on her way, then he would let her off with a warning, but if push came to shove and she kept him waiting any longer, Maloof knew to get Mikhail involved.

Maloof peered out of the doorway of his cabin and found only stray salamanders scurrying across the grass. A few bees buzzed overhead, courtesy of the hive Bobby had stuck in the roof. Dogen was sitting next to the trampoline, rocking from side to side with squirrels cozying up to him. Maloof found Chloe perched on one of the many trees nestled on the hill behind the cabins. She was throwing her paper airplane, and Milka turned visible next to her, kicking her legs out and watching the plane swerve in the wind right back to Chloe.

Other than them, Maloof didn't spot anyone else. Frowning, he stepped out, arms crossed over his chest. Having to locate Elka pinched his nerve, but it did not dampen his resolve. He was owed dream fluffs, and he would get them. Knowing Elka would not want to lose her extra pair of eyes on Nils, Maloof set out to find her.

He approached the girls' cabin. It seemed like the best place to start. Considering Whispering Rock was rather large, and his stubby legs could only take him so far without tiring, he hoped she was inside. (And with Mikhail in a class for Astral Warriors, he also hoped she would take him seriously and fork over the dream fluffs without too much trouble, subconsciously nibbling on his lower lip as he poked his head through the entrance to Elka's cabin.)

"Elka, are you in here?" he called, his footsteps creaking on the wooden floorboards.

Silence greeted him. He waved dust particles away from his face and tiptoed inside. Franke's bed was closest with a few of Kitty's old clothes scattered on her pillow. But when he looked up, he tilted his head at the lump on the upper bunk. It was covered in a sea green blanket, shivering as if cold despite the warm air seeping through the doorway. Pale pink fingers were tightly wrapped around the lace hem, the knuckles glowing white. A small opening in the wrinkles of the blanket exposed thick, blonde hair covering what he presumed was a face, and while the locks appeared brushed, they rose as if frizzy.

Maloof's lips parted. He shifted his weight onto his left leg and raised his hand. He let it dangle, unsure if he should have tapped the bunk. While a little voice in the back of his head told him to get the dream fluffs, he could not bring himself to raise his voice like he would have to Elton or Vernon.

Just a month ago, he had been in a similar position. Hiding underneath his blanket, curled up like a ball pretending he was somewhere else, Maloof knew that misery very well. The only difference was that Bobby or Benny would have dragged him out and beat reality back into him.

"Um, Elka?" he called, wishing his voice wasn't so squeaky. "Are you okay?"

The blanket flew off faster than Maloof expected. He bit back a yelp as it fell in front of him. He half-expected Elka to be with it, his shoe nudging the blanket and watching it crumple.

An expression he hadn't seen on her greeted him. Narrowed eyes, pursed lips, brow furrowed, she glared at him with such fury that Maloof almost ran away. She gripped the edge of her bunk, his interruption clearly unwanted as she hissed, "What do you want? Can't a girl lament in peace?"

The word "lament" was lost on him for a moment, He searched his brain for similar words and came up with "grieve." It sounded similar to what Mom said when Grandma died, his mind's eye showing his grandfather huddled next to Grandma's grave, sobbing silently as his shoulders quaked

Clearing his throat, he asked, "What do you have to lament about?"

She scoffed and waved her hand. "As if a little boy like you would understand. Run along, pipsqueak."

His concern was dashed with irritation. The insult came out of left field and socked him like Bobby's fist. Gripping his hips, he said, "Well, since you're busy hiding, I guess you forgot that it's payday." He turned his hand over and wiggled his fingers. "Five dream fluffs, please, and I'll be on my way."

She hummed under her breath before realization dawned on her expression. Sighing, Elka pushed herself off the bunk and landed on her feet. Steadying herself, she held her arms out for support and rolled her shoulders back. Nudging him aside, she knelt next to him and reached underneath Franke's bunk. She patted the floor, her tongue poking out of her mouth until she snatched a plastic bag and tossed it on Franke's bed, the dream fluffs faintly glowing inside.

"There. Happy?" Elka snorted, her nose wrinkling and reminding Maloof of a piglet. She dabbed the palm of her hand to her eye, which up close made Maloof notice dark blood vessels crossing through graying sclera.

"Um, thanks," he mumbled, quickly taking the bag as if she would change her mind. He counted five dream fluffs and hugged the bag to his chest. He watched her climb the ladder at the end of the bunk and crawl back into her bed, her blanket forgotten as she lied back down.

Elka rolled to her side and stared at the wall. Her eyes flicked down, and her head twitched twice before stopping to gaze at him. She threw her hand to the door, snapping, "What are you still doing here? Go! You got your dream fluffs, so march your little self out of my cabin."

Maloof winced, wishing he could have stayed composed, but his voice warbled as he said, "But-but, um, if you're-if you're upset, then it must be because of someone. You know, uh, that's part of my services, right?" His mouth twitched upwards, confidence returning as Elka stared at him. "Just give me a name, and it'll be taken care of. I'll consider it a first time special and won't charge you. Sounds good, right?"

Elka readjusted herself, and Maloof watched, his eyes slowly widening. She languidly drew out her arm and let her hand dangle over the edge. Resting her cheek to her forearm caused it to squish, forcing her eye into a squint. Running her free hand through her hand, Elka asked, "Why do you care?"

The answer seemed obvious. Plain and simple, she was his client, If she had a problem, then he (or Mikhail) would have dealt with it as long as it didn't affect another camper with his protection services.

But Maloof bit back that response. Something about her made his cheeks color. Maybe it was the gentle tone she used to ask him. Or it was how she observed him with too wet, too tired eyes. Perhaps it was how he felt like the only person in the world who could have helped her in that moment, and whatever it was made his heart flutter in his chest, taxed beyond comprehension.

"Because, uh, I just think…" Maloof crinkled the plastic bag. "...I can help, maybe."

She remained still and let his words hang. Maloof felt like he was being judged when the silence lingered. Even though he should have been in charge, she made him feel like she was under his thumb. He wished a draft would blow in and push out the uncomfortable tingling on his skin along with the sweat beginning to bead on his long, wrinkled brow.

But then, she cracked a hint of a smile. She dragged her fingernails underneath her chin as she sat up. She tucked her legs together and set her hand on her lap, cocking her head at him with an expression Maloof could only discern as pleased.

"That's adorable," she said at last and pinched her forefinger and thumb together. "Talking so big without knowing the entire picture. I could just pinch your chubby cheeks red."

"Uh, d-don't," he blurted, taking an involuntary step backwards. Quickly shaking his head, he puffed out his chest and said, "But let me know if someone is bothering you. I'll take care of them so long as they aren't another client."

"Oh, you will? Personally?" She raised an eyebrow and snickered to herself.

Maloof twisted his collar and found his gaze lowering to Franke's bed. Heat flushed his cheeks the scarlet Elka wanted. "Well, it's like I said, so long as they aren't another client."

"Sure. I'll consult with you later," she said, and she slipped back into her bunk.

Her back faced him. She ended the conversation without divulging why she was upset or what would happen later, something Grandpa said the client should never do. It meant she held the power, that she had the final decision, and he needed to wait on her choice instead of doing what needed to be done.

Maloof opened his mouth, ready to ask who Mikhail needed to beat up. The question felt stuck somewhere in his esophagus, and not even clearing his throat could shake it loose. Shaking his head when he could not speak, he pivoted on his heels and stumbled out, wondering if Elka's eyes were on him when he hobbled away.

Hurrying back to his cabin, the pink, sugary hue illuminating from the dream fluffs reminded him of the lip gloss shaping Elka's mouth,

And when he took a bite of it, he couldn't get her out of his head.


	23. ChloeBobby Phoebe and Mikhail

For Outer Space, You Need to Be Strong

"Bobby, are you okay?" Chloe shouted over the cacophony.

The ringing in his ears muffled her voice. It sounded like cymbals crashing, rhythmically matching the bass drum pounding in his skull. A groan escaped him, silenced by PSI blasts firing off before them, and he pressed his palm to his brow, bloody dots pooling in the scratches across his face.

Pushing a curly lock of hair out his face, he blinked his eyes open. A lense in his glasses had cracked, splitting Chloe's face in two. Closing that eye, he focused on her knit brows and intense stare, her patience seemingly endless as she waited for an answer.

He swallowed, his chest heaving when he felt his heart thundering in his ribcage. "Yeah, yeah, that bastard didn't knock me out," he managed to mumble, working his jaw.

A figure dashed out of the corner of his eye, which was quickly followed by a fiery streak. In the darkness of the night, the flames were made all the more brighter. Flicking his head over, he caught Phoebe darting past the entrance of the alley, her hands alight with flames, Mikhail hot on her heels. PSI blasts boomed like gunshots at them. Mikhail summoned a shield and repelled them towards the sky. Phoebe ducked and aimed another wave of fire from her left palm, the enemy they had been pursuing continuing his retreat.

"Son of a bitch, I'm gonna throttle 'im," Bobby hissed, pushing up on his elbows only to pause.

When he twitched his ankles, he realized he was not on solid ground. The pavement should have been below him, but his legs were in the air. He knew he was not levitating, the pain in his brain too strong for him to even consider his strongest ability. What made matters stranger was that Chloe was not kneeling next to him, instead standing at her full height and looking down at him.

The PSI blast which had struck him had been powerful enough to propel him off the ground. He had slammed into the building. His back had crashed first, followed by the left side of his face before he slid down. The bricks had shot out around him and landed in clumps in the dark backstreet, dust kicking up in the air around them.

When he mulled it over, he also should have been flat on his ass like the bricks. He felt nothing underneath him. He hadn't even fallen to the ground. Why was he in the air with his legs bent and knees sticking up?

Chloe tilted her head, her helmet shifting slightly. "Should I put you down or are you hurt somewhere?"

As soon as the question left Chloe, Bobby was keenly aware of her arms looped around his body. Her right arm was cupped behind his knees, her fingers toying with the frayed threads from a hole in his jeans. He felt her other arm around his back, and she tightened her grip on his shoulder, offering a small smile when he realized the situation.

Heat burned his face a deep scarlet when Chloe reiterated her question. Words became lodged in his throat. He tried formulating a response in his head, hoping to sound smart or coy, but the mere concept of being carried by Chloe as she pressed her hand to his forehead, firmly asking if he was in pain, took his breath away.

Phoebe tackled the man in front of the alley. She rolled to the side, Mikhail hurrying next to her. He raised his hand, digging in his heels. Up went their enemy and he curled his fingers into his fist, trapping the man in his telekinetic grasp. As he struggled, Phoebe lunged to her feet and pulled a PSI lock out of her shoulder bag. She clipped it around his head, subduing his PSI blast before he could fire it, leaving their assailant seething and red-faced as his rage bubbled in his brain with no chance of release.

Phoebe wiped sweat off her brow and gripped her hips. Breaking into a grin, she said, "Well, that only took an hour of cat and mouse."

"True but worked out in end," Mikhail said, lowering and raising his struggling captive like a yoyo.

She nodded only to suddenly gasp. Shock overtook her as she blurted, "Hey, what about Bobby? Didn't he get hurt somewhere over-? Oh!"

Phoebe pursed her lips as Chloe sauntered towards them. She nodded at them, stating that Bobby was not gravely injured. She still held Bobby in her arms, his posture entirely frozen. Looking up, Chloe informed their enemy of their intention to bring him to headquarters for questioning due to his participation in a series of psychic kidnappings happening in New York.

Bobby was very acutely aware of their cohorts' attention zeroed in on them. Phoebe glanced between them, her eyes darting from side to side like a ping pong ball between expert players. Mikhail pulled back, nodding his head in silent agreement. Although Bobby could not fathom what it was Mikhail was implying, he still flushed red under their gazes but made no effort to vacate Chloe's grasp.

"Hell's with you two? Haven't seen a guy get carried before?" he demanded, his pitch scratchy as if trying to save face. "Thought you two were progressive or something'."

"Oh, no, no, no," Phoebe quickly said as they began walking down the sidewalk. "We're just...glad everything worked out in the end, you know?" She flashed a smile at Mikhail. "It's all peachy, right, Misha?"

"Peachy keen," Mikhail added, keeping pace with Phoebe. He peered over his shoulder at Chloe. "So, didn't realize you had strong biceps. Impressive build under baggy attire, yes? Very good."

"Well, astronauts must stay fit. My bones and muscles could be negatively affected by gravity if I am not," she said, Mikhail nodding. She readjusted Bobby, his hair wobbling as she pulled him closer, grinning. "Holding my boyfriend is part of that regimen."

Bobby immediately covered his face with his hands. A soundless scream emitted behind his closed lips. But even though his palms did their best at concealment, they all noticed how his cheeks rose between the space of his thumb and forefinger. The splotchy scarlet hue coloring his entire face was also made apparent with his sky blue hands contrasting with them, his embarrassment and glee intermingling as they returned to their base.

"Do you want me to put you down?" Chloe asked.

"No," he immediately replied, and he extended his middle finger at Mikhail and Phoebe, their smirks all the more smug.


	24. Fifteenth Anniversary Fic Mikhail Maloof

everyone else: genuinely wonderful art for psychonauts' fifteenth anniversary.  
me: kee chi made a tweet that mikhail is still searching for the hairless bear fifteen years later, so here's this. happy fifteenth anniversary psychonauts!

Fifteen Years Later, A Realization

"You know, never did get to wrestle hairless bear."

"Wait, what?"

Mikhail and Maloof stared at each other. Maloof's phone slipped out of his hand, somersaulting to the carpeted floor of Mikhail's cubicle. It clattered on Maloof's shined shoe, scuffing the tip of it and making a wrinkle form in Maloof's brow. He blinked and quickly shook his head, his curly locks twisting with him. He crossed his ankles as he sat across from Mikhail, his brows furrowing. Raising a finger, he let his mouth hang open, questions forming in his head while Mikhail resumed filling out his paperwork on his work computer.

"I-you-did you just say you never got to wrestle the hairless bear?" Maloof managed to sputter, his pitch squeaky.

Without slowing his typing, Mikhail nodded. He tapped the enter key and submitted his report about his latest mission. Nudging the computer aside, he set his elbows on his desk and cupped his face, sighing as if longing for an old friend. "Heard so many rumors about hairless bear, yet never had chance to wrestle and claim victory. Searched and searched and found no sign of it."

Summer was around the corner, so Maloof assumed Mikhail was feeling nostalgic. But he made no sense. Everyone in camp realized the lake monster, or in Mikhail's case the hairless bear, was none other than Linda. She had quickly been adopted into the camp as a pseudo-counselor and mascot, having been adored by PSI cadets for many summers to come after they had graduated.

Maloof had seen Mikhail interact with her many times during that summer. Their conversations usually consisted of Mikhail asking to tussle and Linda declining each time. He remembered Mikhail launching a sneak attack on her, lunging at her from the branch in a tall tree, only for Linda to swat him to the side with her lure. She hadn't even realized she was under attack and lumbered off with Dogen, forcing Maloof to drag his unconscious body back to camp with his pitiful telekinesis. With that memory in mind, Maloof thought Mikhail would have known Linda was the hairless bear. But the faraway look Mikhail gave his ceiling told him otherwise.

"Would have been title match of the camp. It feels like a missed opportunity," Mikhail said, drumming his fingers against his cheek.

"I-I mean…" Maloof pinched the bridge of his nose. Lowering his hand onto his armchair, he leaned forward and asked, "Misha, are you being serious right now?"

"Have no reason not to be," Mikhail replied, sitting back and crossing his arms.

Mikhail's computer pinged, alerting them to a new email. As Mikhail opened it, Maloof tugged at the collar of his suit. He dragged his tongue around the inside of his mouth, Mikhail muttering under his breath as he read.

"You know...you know, Linda was the hairless bear, right?" Maloof asked, setting his elbow on Mikhail's desk and waving his hand.

"Eh? No, cannot be true," Mikhail said, and he shifted the mouse to an attachment under the email.

As Mikhail clicked it, Maloof hunched his head forward and said, "Yeah, she was. She was the hairless bear, and she was the lake monster, too. Everyone figured that out. It was like putting two and two together and getting four."

Glancing at Maloof from of the corner of his eye, Mikhail's mouth twitched. "No. Would have known if she was hairless bear, which she is not. She is-"

"-the hairless bear and the lake monster," Maloof insisted, his interjection deepening Mikhail's frown. He sunk lower in his seat, idly tapping the side of his phone and leering at Mikhail. "I'm telling you, Mikhail, they're one in the same."

"Impossible. I would have known much sooner."

Maloof pursed his lips and groaned. He stuffed his phone into his pocket and rubbed his temples. He knew Mikhail was stubborn, but this was ridiculous. He searched for ways to refute him, but anything he said would have been denied or ignored, Mikhail's insistence bordering on irritating.

But an idea suddenly struck him as Mikhail glared at the attachment on his screen. Maloof straightened, his eyes wide with glee. Catching the change in Maloof's expression, Mikhail squinted at him, suspicious as Maloof laced his fingers together and leaned on his desk, his grin too pleasant to not be cynical.

"Mikhail, what characteristics did the hairless bear have?" Maloof asked, his lip curling into his cheek.

"Hm, larger than Russian bear. Had skin where hair should be." He imitated Maloof's posture and scrutinized him. "Why ask that?"

Fidgeting with his Rolex watch, Maloof snickered. "Remind you of anyone?"

Mikhail pulled back and itched his scalp. Fixing his hat, he thought about what Maloof meant. The bear he sought that summer had skin where hair should have been. It was also around the same size of the regular bears found in Whispering Rock. He imagined the hairless bear having a towering disposition who lurked in the woods, perhaps too shy to come out and wrestle with him.

But as Maloof grinned at him, and he imagined his deceptive hairless bear, he blinked. He dropped his hands to his shins, hunching forward as his mouth fell open. He drew back and gripped his elbows, keeping his wide-eyed stare on Maloof, who continued smiling at him.

If he thought about Linda, then she certainly had a lot of similar characteristics to the hairless bear.

"Wait," Mikhail whispered, his pupils dilating.

She did not have fur. Rather, she had leathery scales.

"Oh," he crooned, suddenly grabbing his jaw.

She was also around the same size as the bears in Whispering Rock.

'This is-" He bit his tongue.

She also tended to hide in the woods, much like the hairless bear.

"WHAT?" Mikhail screamed, shooting out of his chair and slapping his hands on his desk, his computer tumbling off.

As Mikhail's computer crashed in more ways than one, Maloof burst into laughter. He slapped his knee and clutched his phone to his chest. Small tears pricked the corners of his eyes as Mikhail went through an existential crisis, and he shed them when Mikhail dug his fingers into his scalp, throwing his hat off his head.

"I need to go to camp. I need re-match," Mikhail blurted, pounding his fist into his chest, his heart thundering in his ribcage.

"The camps-the camps don't open for a few more weeks," Maloof piped up, chortling.

"Will volunteer as counselor and wait for time to strike. Just learned that I'm on probation for vigilantism, so is perfect timing," he swiftly retorted, throwing his hand out to his fallen, and more likely than not, broken computer. He flashed a wide small and rubbed his hands together, the friction causing a small flare to form between them. "Perfect time to have a good match! Linda cannot escape Mikhail now!"

"Well, I'm sure that will work out for you," Maloof said, checking his phone and smirking as Mikhail laughed.

(A few weeks later, a gaggle of campers found Mikhail unconscious in a stream in the middle of the woods. The outcome of his battle with Linda was obvious.)


	25. Potential Last Names - ChloeBobby

it's my birthday and i'll be as self-indulgent as i wanna be with this present to myself.

Potential Last Names

_Bobby Barge sounds better._

Chloe blinked and stared straight ahead. She was supposed to be focusing on what her coworkers were saying, but she found herself gazing at the farthest wall. Shaking off her surprise, she ran her fingers through her short blonde hair and shook her head. She glanced around the long table, her fellow agents busy with their own paperwork for headquarters' design department, their thoughts protected by mental shields.

When she found Bobby, he had his back to her and was standing a few tables away. He was pointing at a blueprint spread out a wall with a gaggle of interns standing by with their clipboards. His design seemed to be a mixture of a rifle and a chainsaw, one of his more colorful designs for mental PSI weapons. He was in the middle of explaining how it would work, and Chloe picked up a few phrases such as "channeling anger to make the chainsaw rev" and "fire off the PSI energy when the blades spin and shoot it at the same time." A few of the more trigger-happy interns beamed at the information, while others merely looked uncomfortable.

"Agent Barge, what do you think?" Agent Loughty, a portly older man, asked her. He fidgeted with his soul patch. "I think the thrusters are too large, but I'd like to hear your opinion."

Chloe jerked her head down. She followed his sausage-like finger aimed at the thrusters of the latest alpha model jet for the Psychonauts. She cupped her chin, noting they did seem too large for a proper plane. It would take longer to become invisible compared to the sleeker, older jets, and even if it was only by seconds, they were precious when it came to escaping an exploding base.

"I agree with your assertion. The thrusters are too immense. If there is an emergency takeoff, it will not seem inconspicuous as their size could possibly draw attention to the craft should the invisibility not cover it all in time," she explained, her coworkers giving her their full attention. "Though it seems like a miniscule matter, the seconds could be life or death."

Loughty nodded, a few agents at his side exchanging glances. As the senior agent of the group, he caught their indifference and asked for their viewpoints. One woman piped up that the thrusters would be faster than the older planes. Another added that the invisibility point was rendered mute depending on the cloaking technology used or the power of the agents within the plane to set it all invisible.

Chloe frowned. Their points were clearly flawed. The risks were more likely than not to cause harm to the agents involved. Even if one was superhumanly fast with their invisibility, the seconds before it fully took over were not calculable as it was an agent-by-agent basis. Depending on the enemy's psychic prowess or observational skills, they could have easily located or sensed the jet, too, and with that information in mind, she took a breath, ready to dispel their arguments.

'_Call me Agent Bobby Barge.' Yeah, that sounds a lot fuckin' better than Agent Zilch._

Her shoulders twitched upwards. She twisted her head over her shoulder, her helmet tilting with her. She caught Bobby bent over a table, the interns huddling with him as he showed them a second diagram of another PSI weapon he designed. He seemed to be eagerly telling them about the intricacies of his latest weapon, his trigger finger itchy as the more unhinged interns grinned wildly, the subdued ones merely concerned.

This time, she was certain she heard Bobby's voice in her head. It was clear and firm, as if he was convincing himself he was right in a debate despite being the only participant. But the intentions behind his thoughts made her cheeks burn, and she was thankful for the tinted visor on her helmet. She fiddled with the hem of her uniform and surveyed at the other agents. They continued on with their work, and her coworkers debated, unaware of her objectivity. Bobby's mental defenses were nearly impenetrable when he remembered to raise them, so perhaps the interns and other agents at their desks hadn't heard him despite the boldness of his thoughts.

But the fact that she was able to hear them stirred her curiosity. If she had been the only one able to hear Bobby, then his defenses must have been lowered only for her on purpose or on accident. That hypothesis seemed probable, unless he hoped that she would overhear him. But judging by the concentration creasing his brow as he explained something to an intern, she wasn't entirely sure.

"Well, I don't disagree with you two, but I believe Agent Barge's claims are more likely than not to happen," Loughty remarked, Chloe snapping to attention when he mentioned her name. "With that in mind, we'll change the thrusters to a smaller design. Agent Barge, will you do the honors?"

She nodded and accepted the blueprint. Neatly folding it, she slipped it underneath her arm and headed off. It was in her best interest to work on it promptly while her thoughts were fresh in her head.

But she still had her hypothesis, and she was not going to let it go without a solution. She pivoted over to Bobby, squeezing by agents hunched over their computers and tables. She passed the interns and stood next to Bobby, her presence unknown to him as he pointed out a design flaw in what seemed to be a combination of a machine gun and a strip of knives.

"You gotta concentrate so the knives fly outta it at a high speed, right? If they're too sharp, there's a chance they'll all ricochet and stab you right in the gut, and you'll lose an astral projection layer," Bobby said, the wide-eyed girl in front of him nodding with every word. He sighed as she went back to another table, twirling her pencil between her fingers and cackling to herself.

She looked up at him, hiding a bit behind his back. She felt rather childish for keeping her presence hidden, but for the sake of her experiment, she deemed it worth it. Looking up, she focused on his expression, a hint of lethargy mingling with his scrutiny as he scanned the interns' work.

_Bobby Barge, Chloe Zilch, eh, first one sounds way better. I dunno if she'd like having that kind of last name, _he thought, Chloe hanging on to every word. _Hyphenating it might be weird. Hell, I should probably ask her about this before I get thinkin' too far ahead of myself. I don't even know if I'm-_

"Creating PSI weapons?" Chloe interjected, Bobby jolting in place and biting back a yelp.

Bobby whipped his head down, his mismatched eyes wide only to quickly relax when he realized it was her. He heaved out a breath, the corner of his mouth rising as he said, "Yeah. They're an imaginative bunch of bastards, but some of 'em just don't know how to make their designs work on a technical level." He shrugged, his batch of interns working on their blueprints. "They ain't too bad, though, so I don't gotta hover over them like some kind of grade school teacher." He broke into a grin. "Could probably ditch if I wanted to and spend some free time with you."

"But you are assigned to this right now, so you can't," Chloe pointed out, Bobby frowning. She hugged her own blueprint to her chest. "I've been tasked to fix this jet design, so I'll catch up with you later."

She leaned up and pecked him on the mouth. A few younger interns broke into sly grins, which were dashed when Bobby shot them the most hideous snarl he could muster. Chloe grinned and stepped past him, telling him they would meet up after he finished his duty, and Bobby waved her off, his aggravation towards the interns swapping for contentment.

_Oh, I should mention, _Chloe said, continuing to walk away from him.

He crossed his arms and leaned over an intern who was sketching a massive, cartoonish pistol. _Yeah, what's that? _

_I think Bobby Barge or Chloe Zilch sound natural. I'm also fine with hyphenating our names. Your choice if we ever pursue a civil union, okay? Though, I'm more than ready to discuss that with you at our leisure._

The scream he emitted in her head was one that would have shattered windows had he unleashed it in the real world. As Bobby's face flushed and he sputtered, Chloe reassured him there was nothing wrong with his thoughts. Floating all the way back to her office with Bobby's laughter tittering in her head, she entertained the notion of sharing a last name with him, her smile seemingly etched on her face by the time she reached her personal work desk.


	26. Winning Hand - Nils and Chops

Winning Hand

"Oh, hey, just wondering. Do you ever think about dating Elka again?"

Nils dropped his KitKat. When it hit the surface of the picnic bench, the candy broke into halves and fell between the cracks of the table. In his shock, he let the wrapper slip as well, and it was carried off by a gust of wind towards the bridge, which was quickly lost from his sight as he stared at Chops sitting across from him.

He slapped his hand over the deck of playing cards before the breeze could take them, too. Clearing his throat, Nils rubbed it as if that would help remove the lump that had suddenly formed. Puckering his lips, he furrowed his brows, agitation overcoming his initial surprise as Chops drummed his fingers on his knee.

"I thought you wanted to play cards," he said, emphasising the last word by snatching a card from the deck.

His smile faltered. Chops lowered his cards to the table and ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, I do, man, but I figured I might as well ask if-"

He shook his finger. "No, no, I'm gonna quote you." Nils cleared his throat again and put on his best impression of Chops by slightly lowering his voice. "'Hey, Nils, you got a deck and no opponent, eh? Wanna play a round of poker, eh?'"

He wrinkled his nose and crossed his arms. "I don't add 'eh' to the end of everything I say. Don't stereotype me, Nils."

"I thought you said you didn't care if people made fun of you for being Canadian."

"Not when you're being rude after I asked a simple question."

Snorting, Nils rolled his eyes. He thumbed through the cards, the quiet slapping of heavy paper on paper filling the silence. He ignored Chops' narrowed gaze and glared at the splinters rising off the table's corner. Facing Chops' own scowl was not something he wanted, especially when his own good mood had been sullied by his request. Placing his cards on the top of the deck, he scooped them up when Chops leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. Digging his heels into the choppy blades of grass as Chops sighed, Nils snatched the rest of the cards out of Chops' hand without any resistance and set them to the bottom.

"Okay, okay, look-" Chops fidgeted with his sleeves. "-don't go. Just hear me out."

"So you can try to convince me to date Elka?" Nils smirked. "Fat chance. I already wasted a whole summer with that nutcase. I really don't feel like going through that again when there are other single ladies here."

A chuckle slipped out of Chops, but he muffled it by rubbing his mouth. "Well, I'm glad we can agree that she's a nutcase. More like a…" He snickered under his breath. "...priss-case, am I right?"

Nils frowned. Chops' sneering only pinched a nerve. Hearing any other boy talk about Elka with the insults he lobbied at her earned his ire. Only he was allowed to call her names or fight with her. A wannabe acoustic guitarist who got dumped by Lili Zanotto last summer certainly did not have that right.

"Dude, shut up. Don't talk about Elka like that," Nils snapped, stuffing his cards into his pocket. He itched through his scalp, the sun beating down on him doing him no favors. He wished he had a hat to protect his scalp when he flicked away a few flakes of skin colored dandruff out of his thick tresses. Only the shampoo Elka got for him cured his dandruff troubles, and now that it had returned with a fury under the blistering sun rays, it worsened his mood when Chops gawked at him.

The surprise elongating Chops' face made the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. How his mouth had dropped open reminded him of a sad clown. But Chops quickly shook his head and shut his mouth, his cheeks tinting red and bringing out the deep turquoise of his hair.

"Uh, okay, then…" He trailed off, his eyes searching for something to catch his attention. Shimmying to the end of the bench, he fiddled with the hems of his shirts. He glanced at him up and down, Nils wondering what was going on in that concussion-prone head of his and wished he was better with telepathy, but the thought didn't hold his interest for long as he pivoted on his heels with every intention to leave.

"Do you still dig Elka?" Chops asked, the question like a knife to his back.

His shoulders twitched. Whirling back around, Nils pressed his tongue to the side of his mouth. He bobbed his head from side to side, his expression wrinkling in disgust. The calm grin Chops wore unnerved him, bringing back memories of last summer with the lingering taste of strawberry lip gloss and the pulsing headaches which would rattle his skull after a screaming match in the woods.

But as quickly as his anger surged through him, realization dawned on him. Looking Chops directly in the eyes, his motivation became clearer than the sky above them. A snide snicker bounced behind his closed lips. Digging his hand back into his pocket, he clutched his deck of cards so tightly that his knuckles popped and palm throbbed, understanding how his father would feel after finding a way to cut through the prosecution's argument.

Chops raised his eyebrows and dipped his chin. He played with the collar of his camp shirt and glanced back at the bridge. "Well?" he asked, a hint of smile creeping on his face. "If you still like her, then you should date her again."

"So, this is all about JT. Figures." He clicked his tongue as Chops stiffened. Cynicism coated his words as he added, "I guess Elka was right about you."

Chops' grin was wiped out in an instant. He shot to his feet and balled his fists, his rare surge of anger making the hairs on Nils' neck raise. "And what's that mean? What does Miss Priss think she knows about me?" he demanded, trying his best to sound level.

"Well, it's like she told me last summer." He shrugged, grandstanding without an audience. "You're nosy and jealous, and that makes you pretty damn ugly," he announced, and as Chops sucked down a breath, he grinned, satisfied with his victory.

Chops flexed his fingers inwards and stuffed them in his pockets. Nils knew he was hiding his fists. The agitation on his face formed lines on his brow and near his mouth. He looked off to the side, seemingly speechless from what Nils could discern, and he should have been. If Chops had played poker with him just to ask him to hook up with his ex-girlfriend, then he deserved Elka's bite.

Chops touched his cheek as if brushing off a mosquito. He smoothed back frizzy curls, which seemed to have come undone in a matter of seconds. Dragging his tongue across his teeth, Chops' mouth stretched into a tight smile, and he said, "You know what? Forget this. Forget I said anything. Since you wanna try and act like Elka's in the right-"

"I never said that," Nils clarified, the phantom pain of her fingernails pressing into his wrist pitching his voice.

"-then I'm gonna go." He stomped towards Nils, twisting his body to the side to avoid touching him. Over his shoulder, he added, "And you can forget about prowling the girl's cabin. No way I'm gonna be spotted hanging out with you."

His heart skipped a beat, and then, it squeezed in his chest. Nils gripped his playing cards and glared at his backside, one eye twitching. His vocal chords constricted, his own anger choking him. He felt it collect on his forehead, his head burning, his muscles tensing in his arms as he glared at Chops, who walked towards the bridge with his fists swinging by his hips and a swagger like Bobby Zilch's.

But he huffed out his negativity with a sigh. Rubbing his temples, he winced at the warmth and sweat, wiping the latter away on his sleeve. He felt his anger blow away like a dandelion in the wind as he took in a few breaths, doing what Elka had said her therapist suggested to calm down.

Getting angry wasn't worth it. His dad always said that remaining calm and collected was the way to win a case. It helped him poke holes through arguments, always rational, always distant from his clients even if they were guilty, and after what had happened last summer, he thought his dad was right.

Pulling out his playing cards, he picked his hand from the top of the deck. He flipped the five cards over and grinned. He had three of a kind with three eights, the remaining cards being a five and six. It was a decently strong hand, one he would have gladly bet a few arrowheads over.

But when he slipped out Chops' hand, he clicked his tongue.

"Four of a kind," he mumbled, scowling at the finely inked faces of the kings and lone seven. "No wonder he thought he was lucky enough to ask that."


	27. Just the Two of Us - MikhailPhoebe

Just the Two of Us

"Is that-is that blood?"

The trembling voice of Phoebe Love interrupted Mikhail's concentration. He had held up the hems of his shirts to inspect the twin circular wounds underneath his ribcage. Warm blood trickled down his navel to seep into the waistband of his deep blue sweatpants, which were smudged with grass stains.

It was not that the injury bothered him. In fact, each hole was only the size of a quarter. Having been clawed across the chest when he was younger, a warning bite was like a bee sting to him. The bear had nipped him to protect her child in the middle of their match when he collided into it, and he knew it was in her nature, so he did not hold a grudge when she hurried off with her baby while he bled.

But the look of horror crossing Phoebe's features stunted his response. She gawked at him, hobbling up the rusted ramp to the center GPC where he sat with his back against the metal door. Crouching next to him, she stared at the rich red blood contrasting with his golden brown skin, her eyes wide. She raised her hands, her fingers twitching inwards as if she was trying to grasp a pair of invisible drumsticks, and he flicked his gaze between her and his injury, uncertainty plaguing his usual confidence from how worried she seemed.

"No?" he offered, slowly lowering his shirts.

"Wh-? Dude!" Phoebe threw her hand out at his injury. "Those look pretty deep. You could seriously get a bad infection."

He double checked. While his skin was clearly punctured, it was not as bad as she claimed. If the bear wanted to injure him, then she would have sunk in her teeth far deeper and ripped out a chunk of skin, bone, and muscle. He was about to tell her that when she started digging in her pockets, her mouth twisting into a scowl as she fished out a pair of Band-Aids.

"You're lucky I carry these around in case of an emergency," she said, setting one in his other hand. "Hold on to that for me. I'll take it back in just a minute."

He cocked his head. "There is no no need-"

Her finger shot up and cut off his retort. "I don't have any proper disinfectant, but there's antibiotic cream right in the pad, so that's gonna have to work for now." She furrowed her brows. "And I'm not gonna let you say this isn't bad. Like I said, you're risking infection."

"Is just a warning bite from bear," he insisted, frowning.

She rolled her eyes, tearing off the plastic seals. "That's still bad. You know, I totally respect that you wrestle bears, but their mouths are full of germs," she retorted, and Mikhail mulled over the fact, his humming making her lower her shoulders. "Stay still, okay? Any wound should be taken seriously. A warning bite could turn out to be pretty bad if you aren't careful."

Hunching forward, she narrowed her eyes on the top puncture wound. Pinching the sides of the bandage, she pressed the pad on to the wound and smoothed the flaps on his skin, leaving behind not a single crease. Mikhail sucked down a breath, the pain suddenly hot from the pressure. Phoebe pulled back and asked if he was okay, her voice pitching. He nodded, forcing his mouth into a grin. She hesitated but relented at his smile and turned over her hand. Mikhail dropped the second bandage on to her palm, barely grazing their fingertips together. She repeated the process, her concentration unflappable even with the growls of bears in the surrounding woods and the horrors happening within Sasha Nein's underground lab right below them. This time, Mikhail gnawed on his lower lip to prevent himself from yelping, but instead of pain, he felt warmth emanating from her hands pressing into his skin, soothing the faint pulses.

"All done," she announced, gripping her hips. A smile played on her lips. "That looks better, but-" She lowered her gaze to the thin bloody streaks leftover on his skin. Disappointment wiped her smile away. "Sorry. If I had a napkin or something, then I could help with that, too."

"Still good," he said, nodding. He lowered his shirts and covered his injuries. He smoothed down the wrinkles and set his hand on his thigh. "Much better, in fact," he added when he noticed her fiddling with the plastic strips.

Stuffing them back in her pocket, Phoebe straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat. Mikhail watched her eyes dart around, unsure of what she was searching for before she fixed them squarely on his wounds. He sensed she was still bothered by them, but Phoebe suddenly crossed her arms and locked eyes with him, her deep violet irises burning like the fires she created out of thin air.

"You need to make sure you're safe, Mikhail. Look out for yourself, okay?" She gripped his shoulder and squeezed, her resolve unshakable. "I don't think the counselors wanna find you half-eaten in the forest because you infuriated a momma bear."

As she chuckled at her joke, Mikhail's gaze fell on her fingers. Across her knuckles were darker green splotches like blots on a splatter painting. They reminded him of what his knuckles would look like after a good fight, bruised and dark, but they clearly weren't the same. While his injuries would heal over time, hers would remain. Burn scars that severe remained no matter how meticulously she treated them, and despite the throbbing in his side, he knew it was nothing compared to what she must have endured.

Mikhail set his hand over hers, and her giggling was abruptly silenced. He patted her knuckles, saying, "Will make sure I am protected next time. Perhaps, to make sure it does not happen, you will join me?"

"Me?" She pointed at herself, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards.

He nodded, his hat wobbling slightly from his excitement. "Better precaution to have partner. Tag in, yes?"

"And wrestle a bear? I, uh-" She snickered. "-I don't think I can do that."

He removed his hand when she glanced at it. "Then, you can watch. Will be good to have an audience again, like having friends from home when I wrestle." He flexed his arm and patted the taut muscle, his grin sharpening with boldness. "The match will be much more fun with you cheering for me."

Phoebe's cheeks darkened, which only brought out the hazel flecks of her eyes. She quickly shook her head, tittering and pointing to his wounds. "I'll consider it after you get better. Then and only then, okay?"

"Next time it is," he said, and he let his gaze fall on her hand still clutching his shoulder, his heartbeat fluttering a little faster.


	28. Little Brother - Dion and Frazie

Little Brother

"Okay, so, maybe I didn't see that coming," Dion said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Frazie peered at him from their spot underneath one of the many trees of the surrounding forest. The cool shade provided a reprieve from the hot summer sun. She idly played with a few blades of grass, tempted to start humming a tune with a sharper one when Dion had spoken. Dion slapped his neck and killed a mosquito, quickly wiping the insect on his pants, grimacing as it stained his slacks.

"Didn't see what coming?" she asked, pulling her knees to her chest. She rested her chin on her hands, fingers drumming on her skirt.

Dion rolled his eyes, one brow neatly arching. "You know what I mean. Don't act ignorant."

She clicked her tongue, the corner of her mouth turning upwards. She stretched her back and leaned into the tree, the bark scratching between her shoulder blades. "No need to be rude, dude," she said, ramming her elbow into his ribcage.

Suppressing a yelp, Dion leaned away and narrowed his eyes at her. She returned his glare, her eyes glinting with amusement, and she tilted her head, waiting for his comeback. Dion opened his mouth, an insult on his tongue, but he gulped it down and leered back at the circus, their brother's giggling echoing across the campsite.

They found Raz pointing at the big top. The cloth was striped in various hues of red and orange, bristling in the wind along with the leaves which had started to fall, the end of summer in sight. Raz gestured wildly, clenching his fists and throwing them in the air. Lili stood with her back to them, one finger tapping on her hip. He recalled something they couldn't quite hear, but his smile cutting into his cheeks and intermittent giggles shared with her was enough confirmation to let them know he was more excited than he had been in months.

"I didn't think he'd get a steady girlfriend before either of us," Dion grumbled, resting his face in his hand.

"You're jealous of a ten-year-old?" Frazie sneered, and Dion huffed, wrinkling his nose.

"He knew her for a day, and within that day, they hooked up. It's insane." He cracked his knuckles, each pop loud and grating on Frazie's ears. "Does he know anything about that girl? She's psychic and likes comics, who even is she?" he growled, keeping his gaze narrowed on Lili. As she patted Raz' shoulder, Dion scratched the back of his scalp. "She wasn't exactly forthcoming about herself. Saying that she's his girlfriend and that's it before scampering off with him like a bunch of little kids going to their first show."

Frazie sighed and shook her head. She stretched her legs and rolled her ankles. Resting her head on the tree, she stared at the sunlight filtering through the branches. She turned her hand and caught a leaf before it could land on her head, tracing the veins and flicking it away, the leaf somersaulting before plummeting by her slip-ons.

"Well, they seem to be doing just fine. Not like they're arguing or being too mean to each other, right?" she offered, but Dion scoffed.

"We don't know anything about her. Neither does he." He lowered his voice and dug his fingernails into his palm. "It's messed up, and you know it, Frazie."

"They're ten," she said, stretching her vowels. She laced her fingers together and stretched her arms above her head. As her back popped, she sighed and dropped them on her lap. "We had girlfriends like her, too, when we were his age. Remember Caitlyn?"

Dion smirked. "How could I forget the girl I was dating that you stole from me by doing twenty flips and sweeping her off her feet?"

She laughed, her cheeks darkening as she remembered doing exactly that much to Dion's childhood chagrin. "Oh, yeah, I forgot! You didn't speak to me for a week after she left. Still-" She poked his chest. "-we didn't know anything about our girlfriends when we were kids."

"It's not really a same-different kind of thing. They're actually serious." Dion pursed his lips and glanced over at Raz, grinding on his molars while he watched him take LIli by her hand and guide her into the big top. "I think. I dunno. This might be a fling like ours were."

Frazie hummed and crossed her legs, her heels bouncing onto the ground. "Seems serious to me. We never showed our girlfriends around the inside of there."

A chuckle escaped him before he could stop himself. He huffed out a sigh, his smile swapping for his regular scowl. Hunching forward, Dion shifted his weight on his legs and pushed himself off the grass. He brushed stray ants off his pants, his sister following his lead, and he scrutinized the tarp, the colors brighter under the sunlight.

"They seem happy," Frazie interjected before she could lose him in his thoughts.

"Maybe they do," he acquiesced, Frazie slouching and groaning by his side. He curled his lip and raised his arms, stepping back as Frazie dragged her hands down her face. "Jeez! And you call me overdramatic. What's your deal?"

Frazie straightened and cocked her hip out. She rolled her wrist, smirking and raising an eyebrow as she said, "Even though he's a Psychonaut and has a girlfriend, he's always gonna be our little brother no matter what, huh?"

The way his eyes widened elicited a chuckle from her. She grinned and lightly punched his arm, which quickly earned her one in return. She laughed a little louder, Dion's cheeks reddening and heating up hotter than the sunlight pressing down on them.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he muttered, pivoting away from her and fiddling with his large collar. "He just better not elope with her. Me and Dad will disown him if he does."

Frazie cackled. She smacked his back and followed him away from their resting spot. Peering over her shoulder as Dion announced he was going to check out the waterfall, Frazie smiled at the big top and wished Raz luck.


	29. Picture Perfect - MaloofElka

Picture Perfect

Elka wrapped the towel around her head. Long, wet locks slipped through and trailed down her back. She looped the tresses around her fingers and stuffed them back into the towel, tightening the knot on her head and securing it in place. Smoothing her bangs back, Elka inspected herself in the bathroom mirror. Even though she noticed the slightest hint of puffiness under her eyes, she decided she looked presentable.

She smoothed out the wrinkles on her pure white bathrobe, the cotton material still soft and pleasant despite over a year of wearing it. Taking the sash, she pulled the ends and tightened the knot by her waist. Elka took another look at herself and smiled, setting her hands on her neatly accentuated hips and nodded, feeling more comfortable and confident with her appearance.

She left the door open as she exited the bathroom, letting the remaining steam waft into the hallway. Her bare feet did not make a sound as she trekked across the finely carpeted floor, the colors a mishmash of homely dark reds and browns. She passed portraits hung up on the walls of other members of Maloof's family and paused to gaze at one featuring Maloof when he was a chubby toddler clinging to his grandmother's leg while she sat in her rocking chair in what she believed was her personal den. He had her smile, one which pushed up pudgy cheeks, and her curls, although hers were distinctly gray and thinner. Elka tilted her head, fondly remembering how his grandmother had taken her aside to ask if she was alright among so many verbose, sneering family members with their quick, scrutinizing gazes during the annual Canola family reunion. Glancing to the next frame, she chuckled to herself at Maloof and her holding cotton candy and standing on Santa Monica Pier. The beach shone so brightly in the background that it blended in with the golden shore, the sun a bloody dot as it melted into the water. Behind them were people walking their dogs or running after their children, the carnival-like surroundings populated by all kinds of people near pop-up vendors and distinctly Californian stores. Even now, she could still smell the overwhelming stench of butter popcorn mingling with the sea salt breeze.

Stepping away from memory lane, she came out to the living room and found Maloof lounging in a dark brown loveseat fit for two. He had his arm slung over a throw pillow, one leg crossed over the other. While the widescreen television mounted on the wall showed a late night talk show, he was more invested in his phone. His thumb swiped from left and right, up and down, with his eyes tracking the digit's movement. He hadn't realized she arrived, amusing Elka as she crept closer, quietening her footsteps on the hardwood floor when she made her way behind him. She leaned forward, stopping her breath as Maloof's finger twitched on top of his phone and hit the power button, mistakenly returning to his lock screen.

A smile curved on her lips. She set her hands on the top of the loveseat while Maloof typed in his passcode. As the screen lit up with apps, she whispered in his ear, "Am I your lock screen?"

The shriek he emitted pierced her eardrums. Maloof jumped a foot in the air, propelled by levitation before plummeting back down. He fumbled for his phone, it bouncing between his hands before Elka pinched it with her index finger and thumb. As he whirled around to face her, she maintained her grin and clicked the power button, returning to the lock screen.

"You weren't supposed to see that," he grumbled, heat flushing his complexion cherry red.

"We've been dating for five years, and you get embarrassed because of that? How cute," she cooed, reaching down and lightly pinching his cheek.

As he uttered what she believed to be a combination of a grumble and a chuckle, Elka inspected the picture he chose. It was one he had taken early in their relationship. If she had to guess, she supposed it was when they were dating for a few months. She stood on a sandy shore which stretched on as far as she could see until she found a strip of deep blue waves in the distance. Her mouth was open in a laugh, the wind seemingly whipping at her body. The shot had been snapped when her baby blue sundress was in mid-flutter, sand kicking up and hitting her long legs, and she was pressing her straw hat to her head, as if it would have been taken by the breeze, but even if it had, she could not find a trace of annoyance in her features.

"This was...hm, this was our weekend in Myrtle Beach, right?" she asked, slinking around the loveseat and tussling her fingers through his curly mop of hair.

"Yeah, our first real vacation together," he replied with a lopsided smile. While she made herself comfortable next to him, tucking her knees to her chest and readjusting her bathrobe, he fixed his own. Pulling up the collar of wine red robe, he leaned into her shoulder, looking up at her through full lashes.

"I can't believe you haven't updated this. Has this been your lock screen ever since you took it?" Elka teased.

"Why update it when it's perfect?" he retorted, smirking.

She conceded by gently tweaking his nose. "Touche," she purred, smiling, her heart swelling with contentment. Setting his phone on the glass table in front of them, carefully avoiding the glasses of rose he prepared for them, she cupped his round face and pulled him in for a kiss. Feeling Maloof melt into her embrace and wrap his arms around her waist, Elka closed her eyes and immersed herself in their mutual happiness.


	30. Color of Lovestruck Bliss - FrankeKitty

based on a drawing by tumblr user chloe-barge. link to the art.

Green is the Color of Lovestruck Bliss

Washing her face would have been totally rude. Although keeping her face clean should have been her top priority to prevent her pores from clogging, it didn't feel right at all. In any other case, Franke would have scrubbed her make-up off at the end of the day before hopping into her bunk for a good night's rest.

But the lipstick she wore wasn't hers, nor was it simply on her lips. Celadon kiss marks covered her face. They didn't bruise, of course, for Kitty's kisses were soft. Instead, they had been placed delicately on her brow, cheeks, and lips, sometimes overlapping, but always full. Kitty had a tendency to pucker her lips before each peck, and she had treated Franke's face like her personal canvas, Franke more than delighted to comply when Kitty kissed her.

They had parted ways when Oleander made the call for lights out through the loudspeakers. Kitty had given her a wink and wave before swinging her hips all the way to the advanced cadets' cabin. Franke had barely been able to sputter out a goodbye, too entranced with Kitty's affection and charm to form intelligent words.

She glanced overhead at the twinkling stars. None of them compared to Kitty's beauty. Her cheeks flushed bubblegum pink upon that realization, and she touched her cheek, not thinking of how she might have caused the lipstick to stain her hand. Her lips curved, and her heart fluttered, a pleasant warmth spreading throughout her as she revisited her moment with Kitty again and again in her mind.

"Hey! Cadet Athens! I'm not gonna warn you twice! Get your ass in your bunk! Now!" Oleander bellowed through the loudspeakers, his voice rumbling like an earthquake.

She yelped and tore her hand from her cheek. Whipping her head from side to side, she breathed in sharply and clutched her shirt with her other hand. Blinking, Franke shook loose curls of hair out of her face and stumbled away from the trampoline towards the girls' cabin, her shock quickly morphing into annoyance from the coach's harsh interruption.

Before she entered her cabin, she inspected her hand. Kitty's lipstick had been smeared across her palm and covered the creases and veins. Franke's eyes widened, observing the faint lines through them, knowing they were the same ones she saw on Kitty's lips when she puckered them.

Raising her hand to her mouth, she quickly kissed the silhouette. Although she wished it was the real thing, the same fondness rushed through her. She shivered from head to toe as if someone had tickled a sensitive spot on her spine, and when she let her hand fall to her side, she decided.

_Oh, yeah, these are gonna stay._

(As she rested underneath her cashmere blanket, Kitty's lips tingled, and she grinned.)


	31. So Disgusting - Franke Benny Chops

Franke sees something so disgusting that it simply must die.

based on a conversation i had with flicq and andy on the something psychonauts discord!

Something So Disgusting That It Simply Must Die

If the word "despair" had a visual next to it in a dictionary, it would be what Franke Athens was witnessing. The joint she had just rolled tumbled out of her twitching fingers. It bumped off her knee and scuffed her sneaker. While she would have adhered to the five second rule under normal circumstances, what was happening stunned her so severely that she could not focus her half-lidded gaze on anything else.

She wished the lights around them blinded her. Pink and cyan colors flashed above her head but only cast shadows on the other partygoers. The pumping drumbeats and heavy synths from the band playing on the rickety-looking stage became television static in the back of her mind. It was such a ridiculous situation that the normal insanity of a house party, with the scents of beer and cheap perfume wafting around her, became tame, mundane, and boring compared to what plagued her.

Like a rodent, Benny nibbled into his blunt. Bits of paper became stuck in his teeth. He swallowed and grimaced, his eyes screwing into a squint. But he cleared his throat and bit into it again, poorly masking his discomfort with the strained smile on his face.

"You know, I'm really starting to feel the high," Benny said, his smugness palpable enough to make a shiver run down Franke's spine. He chomped down on the tip, and his entire body convulsed. He sounded like he was choking on his own tongue, throat bulging as he hunched forward. He clawed at his neck and squeezed his eyes shut again. Small tears slipped down his ruddy cheeks while he choked down the sliver of the blunt.

Brown, flaky cannabis residue clung to his upper lip when he straightened. He flashed that same, cocky grin at her. He coughed, and as soon as his mouth twitched, she noticed his tongue curling in on itself.

"Now, that's the good stuff," he choked out, drumming his fingers on his thigh.

"Dude," she said, slowly getting up from her seat and stubbing out her fallen blunt, "that's not how you smoke weed."

Benny's gaze dipped. His smile remained, seemingly frozen on his face. He twisted his weed between his lithe fingers. He puckered his lips and examined the ends of the joint, twirling both sides to his face as if deciding which end to smoke before dropping his hand.

In silence, Franke followed his every moment. He flicked his joint into the crowd, letting it vanish among mingling bodies. Benny pushed himself up by his knees, his chair rocking behind him. He stuffed his hands in his jean pockets and stalked off into the crowd, his head bowed, a lingering odor of shame wafting from him.

Franke sat back down and rested her legs on Benny's chair. She slipped out her smartphone from her vest pocket and rested her thumbs on the dark screen. Taking in a deep breath, she smelled the comforting scent of marijuana smoke and looked up, wondering if she had subconsciously lit up during that embarrassing exchange.

Chops adjusted his beanie, a joint dangling between his lips as he nodded at her. "So, uh, did I just see that? Did what I think saw really happen?" he asked, smirking and gripping his phone with both hands.

"I wish it didn't. I'm gonna, like, be cringing the entire night now," she replied. Noticing the red light on Chops' phone faded, she grinned. "Were you recording that?"

"Well, when I am gonna catch a golden opportunity like that again?" he retorted, and they high-fived, bonding over the one of the worst things they had ever seen engraved in their memories.


	32. Bells and Bows - MirtalaChloe

one half of my brain: mirtala has three snippets of a personality right now.

other half of my brain: okay but...mirtala/chloe.

Bells and Bows

_Jingle jingle jingle_ went the bells in Chloe's hair. They were perfectly symmetrical on the sides of her head, her reflection in the mirror a blurred image within them. They retained a glossy sheen under the dim lights of the advanced kids' cabin. The sterling silver appeared a shade darker. Chloe caressed them, noting the faintest hints of cracks towards the underside of the left bell. With the slightest touch or tilt of her head during her examination, they continued to chime without rhyme or rhythm.

Mirtala held her hand mirror out for Chloe. Her grin pushed into her round cheeks and made them squint, the corners crinkling with tiny lines. "I knew they'd look good on you," she said, tossing her mirror on her bunk and taking off her crown.

"These are very intricate ornaments," Chloe replied, dragging her finger along one of the many bobby pins used to secure the bells in place. "I'm surprised you had such an influx of these."

Mirtala smirked and threaded her fingers through her long, deep red hair. It was a rare sight for Chloe to see the other girl with her hair down. Mirtala spent longer than their old nemesis, Kitty Bubai, in the bathroom braiding her hair before wrapping them in silk, washed out purple ribbons. It was perfectly logical for her to carry an immense quantity of hair pins to keep her curls perfectly in place.

"When you have hair like mine and pockets these deep-" Mirtala thumbed the sewn pockets on her skirt, which Chloe hypothesized could comfortably fit an entire squirrel. "-it only makes sense." She shrugged and leaned forward, counting the number of bobby pins under her breath. "Huh, ten pins. That's not even halfway near the amount I use for my hair."

Chloe rubbed through her scalp and felt the cool metal through her short locks. Their tips were stretched to accommodate the length of the bell. Mirtala had inserted them through the holes in the bells and through her hair at the same time to secure their placement, and the large shape of bells, bigger than Mirtala's hands, shadowed them well.

"Have you ever thought about growing your hair out?" Mirtala asked, leaping off her bunk. Her lace drapings fluttered as she clasped her hands together. "You know, I think it'd look good on you. It framed your face so well."

"While I appreciate the compliment, that would be a negative," Chloe replied as she gestured to her nearby helmet resting on Mirtala's pillow. "Any excessive hair would impede my vision. It would also decrease the space I have within my helmet. Also, it would be incredibly hot on my scalp and neck with that amount of hair."

Mirtala tossed her crown between her hands. She looped her pinky finger through a small slit in front of her crown, twirling it while she said, "Yeah, that's one way to put it. If I performed with my hair down, it would just fly in my face, and I'd risk crashing head-first into the safety net, which would not be fun for anyone." She broke into a grin and held out her crown. "Okay, time for the pièce de résistance! I'll set it right between my, I mean, your bells."

"You're not wrong by referring to them with 'my.' They are yours, after all," Chloe said, Mirtala shrugging at the correction.

Mirtala slid off the bed and stepped in front of Chloe. She cupped her crown between her hands and raised it above Chloe's head, the deep teal jewel in the center taking on a translucent hue. Slowly, she set it above her hairline and stepped back, Chloe feeling surprised at how lightweight it was compared to the heavy material it seemed to use.

Mirtala's eyes twinkled like the stars Chloe adored. She laced her fingers together and clasped her hands, rubbing her palms together. She sucked in a breath and held it, her smile filled with crooked, white teeth before throwing her arms out as she shouted, "Gorgeous! You look like a princess from space!" She brushed her knuckles to her chest and snickered. "I knew they'd look good on you. Then again, with a pretty face like yours, you make anything look good."

A faint hint of red colored Chloe's freckled cheeks and warmed her skin. She touched her right cheek, surprised by her internal temperature change. It had been unexpected, as if her body reacted to Mirtala's words despite the intangible nature of a human's voice.

But she still smiled. The compliment was more than appreciated. She thanked her, her legs slowly kicking out to the dinging of the bells. As Mirtala sat next to her, fixing loose, blonde strands back into bobby pins on Chloe's head and traced her knuckles against her cheek, Chloe held Mirtala's other hand and squeezed.

"Although it isn't as extravagant as your accessories-" Chloe reached behind her and withdrew the large, worn cotton bow she'd clip into her hair. "-would you like to try my bow on? I believe it is similar in nature to your ribbons that you would view it as a suitable substitute."

"Would I?" Mirtala batted her eyelashes. "Well, of course I would."

Chloe shifted to her knees and crawled behind Mirtala. The bells chimed as she steadied herself. She could smell the scent of green apples wafting from Mirtala's hair, the shampoo's aroma still strong after a long day of Agent Nein's personal training. Mirtala's tresses even retained a silkiness unknown to Chloe, and she threaded her fingers through her locks, effortlessly gliding through them without hitting a single snag.

Mirtala cocked her head and looked at her out of the corner of her eye. She spoke out of the side of her mouth. "Feels nice, huh? It's my mom's personal shampoo that makes it really nice. You can use it whenever you want."

"I think I will," Chloe murmured, nodding.

With such long hair, Chloe was unsure where to place the bow. When she set it in her hair, she fastened it on the back of her head. That way, it would be unobstructing throughout her day. But with Mirtala's thick tresses, she hesitated on where to insert the slightly rusted clip.

"Hm, how about here?" Mirtala offered, gazing at her reflection in the mirror.

Chloe followed her finger. Mirtala was tapping the right side of her head just above her temple. She uttered an agreeable hum and slowly slipped the bow in place. It gathered Mirtala's hair just above her ear, and Chloe clipped evenly behind it, which she noted with her logical mind that it made her hair seem uneven.

But Mirtala smiled at her reflection and bobbed her head. She twisted her head from side to side, Chloe's bow appearing in every shot. She pinched the tip and rubbed it, marveling over the smooth fluff before dropping her mirror to the side. She swiveled around and leaned closer to Chloe, hands on her knees, her eyes so large that Chloe thought they were black holes.

"It's perfect just like you," Mirtala whispered, and she wrapped her arms around Chloe's back.

Nestled into Mirtala's hair, she breathed in her scent of green apples, cotton candy, and copper. Chloe returned her embrace, the feeling of intimacy still foreign but not exactly unpleasant. If she had been younger, such an act would have earned the offender a swift reprimand, but she kept Mirtala close and gripped the silk fabric of her striped shirt.

Chapped lips pecked her cheek. Once again, scarlet warmed her face to the very tip of her nose. Mirtala chuckled as she leaned back, observing how Chloe patted her cheeks.

"You're really out of this world, huh?" she asked, and Chloe flicked the bells on her head, confirming her deduction.


	33. Action and Reaction - Chloe

Action and Reaction

Chloe secured the final lug nut into place with one more twist of her wrench. She placed it back into her male parental unit's toolbox and stepped away to admire her handiwork. She walked around the model rocket, crafted from scraps and cuts of metal she had collected throughout the week from her father's shades of silver and gray on the body appealed to her as looking professional. She would have liked a splash of color on the fins and nose cone for added sleekness. While the exterior appeared simple, inside the rocket was a complex mesh of tubes, pumps, nuzzles, and wires, which she had spent hours carefully attaching, inserting, and connecting to make a superior model rocket compared to the flimsy, store-bought soda bottle rockets meant to entertain earthling children.

Crouching next to the toolbox, Chloe grabbed a plastic controller. It was rounded at the edges with a colorful selection of buttons in quadrants. An antenna wiggled from a thin socket on the right side. In the center was a joystick that she had deconstructed from a broken arcade machine in the basement of the town's youth center. The worn, rubbery grip was unsuited for her experiment, but she had to make do with what was presented in her surroundings. Earth lacked the proper tools, grafts, and materials that Cygnus A or Fath 703 would have provided, so the quiet swelling of pride in her chest for what she had created felt warranted.

If her calculations were correct, and she believed they were, then all she had to do was click the button in the center of the joystick. It would activate the electromagnetic function within the rocket, sending it launching through the sky. With her joystick and buttons, she would control the speed and aerodynamics of her rocket, which would supply her with crucial information regarding the dynamics of the planet's atmosphere and influence the design of her real rocket.

Anticipation shivered down her spine. The smile on her face felt permanent, and she imagined herself comfortable and cozy in her own spaceship. The imminent launch of her model allowed her to take one step closer to her goals. She had spent hours perfecting her prototype, and now, the moment of liftoff had finally arrived after days of concentration, perseverance, and hard work.

Holding her breath, Chloe tapped her thumb on the launch button.

Nothing happened.

She furrowed her brows. It should have risen the moment she pressed it. Right now, it should have been soaring near the roof of her humble, earthly abode. She cocked her head, puzzled by the lack of the electrical whirring and humming from within its metallic core.

She jiggled her joystick. She jabbed her finger into the other buttons. She smacked the side of her controller.

Still, her rocket remained as still as a statue and frustrated her to no end.

"What is wrong with this needling contraption?" she huffed, and she flicked her index finger against the tip of the antenna. "Earthling metals are-oh!"

As soon as her finger came in contact with the antenna, the rocket sprung to life, roaring, smoke erupting from the seams. Chloe dropped her controller, dumbfounded, and she could only stare as it shot up in the air. It carved a crescent path past her home and careened to the middle of the street, refusing directional inputs when she snapped down and snatched her controller. Her mouth flung open, unable to vocalize her shock while the rocket twisted and swerved between mailboxes and vehicles, coughing out of thick, black smog.

The cul-de-sac residents were unaware of the terror spewing outside. The sputtering, erratic rocket speared through front lawns, dashed over SUVs and Hondas, and made the neighborhood cats resting on porches lift their heads from their afternoon naps. Chloe raced after it, her tiny legs pumping along the pavement, and she frantically jostled the joystick, hoping to regain some control over her experiment, the earthlings too invested in their homely happenings to pay attention to the chaos outside.

Her rocket flipped in mid-air, nails and bolts falling out from sheared metal. It shuddered and whirred, its sharp tip aimed right for her head on the sidewalk. Yelping, she ducked into a neighbor's bush, squeezing her eyes shut and waited for the inevitable crash.

But it never came.

She slowly poked her head out. Once again, she gaped, witnessing the final moment before destruction.

Her rocket crashed into the Silva family's dog house, causing metal and wooden shrapnel to explode everywhere. Electrical wiring and dog treats mingled in the debris. Thick smoke rose up from the center of the impact, and the charred timber and burned patches of metal scattered across their rose bushes, small flames rising on the blades of freshly cut grass.

Chloe glanced between the wreckage and her controller. She pinched the antenna, lips pursing together. She released and watched it wiggle before uttering a quiet hum.

"It seems the magnet was not as powerful externally as it was internally, I think. There must be more factors to why it-" She paused her contemplation, hearing the doors of her neighbors' homes slamming around her, the shrill shriek of Mrs. Silva wailing like a mythical banshee in front of her. "But first, an apology is in order…"


End file.
